


The Stars Beyond

by BoyoBoyItsRegret



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alien AU, Aliens, Angst, ESPECIALLY about claude, Gore, M/M, Modern AU, Other, Parasites, Possession, TWSITD - Freeform, Too Many Characters to Tag, a bunch of these alien breeds I made so sorry about that, some characters are aliens so if that upsets you im sorry, spoilers for 3H in general, there WILL be shipping stuff just wait for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyoBoyItsRegret/pseuds/BoyoBoyItsRegret
Summary: The Nabateans are an alien species, with the majority of them wiped out long ago by the Agarthans hiding within the Earth. Upon planet Zanado the remainder live peacefully, hidden by the other alien species which inhabit the planet--until their last hope at reviving their race vanishes into Earth. Desperate to regain their chosen, they turn to Prince Dimitri of the Vexins, a parasitic alien race, to infiltrate the societies upon Earth and return Byleth to Zanado. But Byleth's disappearance is no accident, and what originally seemed to be an easy mission for Dimitri quickly turns into a desperate struggle to survive upon the unknown climate of Earth and uncover the secrets kept by the Agarthans--all through the use of his unfortunate (and unwilling) host, Claude von Riegan.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 34
Kudos: 63





	1. Injections Occur

**Author's Note:**

> im ngl, originally this started as a venom!AU but then i realized i dont know jack SHIT about venom, or symbiotes. and then i researched them, decided i didnt like it, said fuck it, and just made up a race sorta like them to use. i think alien aus are fun (monster AUs in general catch my fancy) and thought i'd make one of my own (i sincerely hope that the use of an alien race i made myself doesnt upset anyone) i will warn you though, this DOES involve parasites, and it might get a little weird here and there because of it (no rape or anything, just yknow, parasites live INSIDE hosts, so that is a thing). if you're okay with all of that, then please proceed!

Planet Zanado, 0003

The archbishop stood before her throne, awaiting the arrival of the prince. Beside her was her ever faithful advisor, Seteth. His arms were folded, gaze focused upon the double doors leading into her chamber. 

It was completely silent, and had been for a long time. Planet Zanado had once housed luscious life and a race born from the goddess herself—but that was long ago. Now it sat empty, bare of its once rich plant life and scarce in what had once been a wild animal population. The last of the Nabateans were gathered here, in this room, with the exception of Flayn, Seteth’s daughter. Elsewhere in the castle was she likely frolicking with the servile aliens who had come to flock the planet. 

The stone of the double doors creaked, a clawed tentacle hand pushing them open. Their eyes fell upon the owner: Dimitri, prince of the Vexins, a parasitic race pushed from their own planet as well. Perfect for this mission. 

His body, a writhing upright mass of tentacles, immediately began to change as he stepped forward, mimicking their own forms. Each individual tentacle grew taut and linked together with its brethren, forming a chest, legs, two arms. His head was covered in a single shiny helmet, the visor dark, and his hands were composed of five conical fingers. Their material glinted in the light which streamed in from behind Rhea’s throne.

He crossed the chamber and stepped onto the dark stone floor, where he kneeled before her. She held out a scaled hand to indicate he may rise.

“Welcome, Prince Dimitri. Your timing is proper as always.”

“As expected of one such as myself,” he said, rising to his feet. His voice was deep, and sounded like many speaking at once. “May I ask, why the sudden request for my presence?”

Rhea nodded. “I am in need of a Vexin, Prince Dimitri. But if I am to confide in you, you must vow to me that this information shall not leave this chamber.” Her gaze fell to Seteth for a moment, who was watching Dimitri intently. 

The Prince placed a hand over his chest and bowed. “You have my word, Lady Rhea. We never betray the trust of our hosts.”

A tiny smile crept upon her lips. “It is not I who you will be injecting, though I appreciate the offer. There is another, with much higher stakes.” She turned to Seteth, who nodded. 

“Lady Rhea has recently lost her last spawn to a human,” he explained. “The child was kidnapped and is being held upon Earth. When extraction was requested, we were turned away with the threat of attack should we speak again.”

Dimitri has no expression, and yet the way his fingers clicked against each other told them a great deal of his emotions. “I see. Is it injection of the child you are asking for? Or the ones holding them?”

“Neither,” Rhea answered. “We are under threat of extinction at present should they find out we have gone to you. This mission must be kept subtle, and thus we cannot make any sudden moves. Seteth and I have discussed several plans of action and have come across a satisfying answer. We ask that you inject into an official, a human with power, in another country, and use that power to infiltrate. Should you be denied, you may ‘sway’ the captors by using that power.”

“With all due respect, Lady Rhea, may I ask why not simply inject into a captor? Would it not be simpler and shorter?”

Rhea’s expression saddened. “We have already attempted such...requesting it of your father.”

Dimitri’s voice fell quiet. “Oh.”

“Which is why we have created this safer plan,” Seteth broke in. “Should worst come to worst, you would not be trapped if you chose to extract.” He paused, reached into his pocket and retrieved a crystal. “Here we have enclosed information for every suitable host for you, as well as their known locations upon Earth. A ship has been prepared for you with coordinates for the planet. In addition, we have requested two other Vexins to be moved into Earth’s orbit. They will be monitoring your activity; should you call for help, they will be prepared to extract and defend you. As for piloting, all you must do is place the crystal within your ship and select your target. The ship will take care of the rest. Do you accept?”

Dimitri looked between the two of them, then nodded. “Alright. I accept. How long do I have to complete this mission?”

“Due to travel time and the patience required to infiltrate, we have allocated three Earth years to you,” Seteth said. “Use them wisely.” 

Dimitri nodded and stepped forward to retrieve the crystal. It was warm in his hand as Seteth placed it. 

“Thank you for your gracious help, Prince Dimitri,” Rhea bowed her head. “May the goddess Sothis watch over you every step of the way.”

He bowed back to her. “I vow to you I shall not fail, Lady Rhea.”

———-

The ship was waiting for him behind the palace, away from the typical launch site. Of course he had alerted his people—what was left of them—that he was embarking on a mission before he had set out. He checked first to ensure he had not been followed before approaching the ship. 

It was a Vexin ship but modified with Nabatean technology. It bore the characteristic drill shape and the four claw-like stilts of a Vexin, but the usually black metal which made up the drill was now shimmering with blue. The hatch, glassy and puffing outwards like a bubble, was already open for him.

Dimitri descended into the ship, sealing the hatch behind him. For a moment he was left in complete darkness, with only the sky above to accompany him, before the inside of the ship lit up. He got comfortable, sinking into the chair made for two legs and not a mass of tentacles, and checked the screen. It revealed, as it should, the surroundings outside. He tapped it and pulled up the solar map, skipping between planets before he reached Earth, a couple light years away. Then he raised the blue crystal Seteth had given him and placed it into the control pad for which a slot had been made.

Immediately the screen fizzled, dissolved, and remade itself. Now it was zoomed in on Earth, on one continent specifically: Fodlan. Each country in it was lighting up differently, representing faces from each. Potential hosts. He peered out at them through his helmet, trying to read names. 

Edelgard gon Hresvelg. Hubert von Vestra. Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Ferdinand von Aegir. Hilda von Goneril. Claude von Riegan. Caspar von Bergliez. Linhardt von Hevring. The list went on. 

He skimmed a few more, trying to find the closest target to the facility, which was located in the center of the continent. Supposedly his true target was being contained there, and he would like a start as close as possible to them. Eventually he settled upon Edelgard von Hresvelg and selected her face. The screen immediately pulled up coordinates to her location, giving him an approximation of the distance and just where she was on the continent. A blinking dot appeared, indicating the perceived landing site, and the thrusters activated as the stilts folded back into the ship.

Dimitri sank back in the chair, letting himself unravel a bit. He looked like a humanoid shape made of yarn, colored black and blue and glistening with a strange light. Only his helmet and conical shell-like fingers remained solid, pure black in their color. It was a long process for any Vexin to relax, and he would have to be completely relaxed if he was to enter cybersleep.

First he waited till he had broken through the atmosphere and the pull of gravity no longer made the drill rock back and forth. Then he set the ship to autopilot, and stood, practically slithering past the chair into the deep recesses of the ship. It was small, never meant to hold more than one at a time, and the pod designed for him was barely more than a few steps from the cockpit. It was empty, but upon activation it would fill with fluid, perfect for a Vexin. It wasn’t air, after all, that circulated through his veins. 

He activated the pod and crept inside, feeling the fluid pour down around him. It surrounded him, crept between each tentacle and gradually made its way into his veins. The chemical they had added was powerful—already, his consciousness was starting to slip as he became suspended within the fluid.

Soon he would be asleep, perhaps for weeks on end, as he shot towards Earth. It would awaken him then, and his mission would begin. But until then, he would slumber, and hopefully it would be dreamless.

He didn’t fancy being trapped in there with the very ghosts who tormented him.

It was as the ship approached Earth that the first complication its sleeping pilot couldn’t address began.

—————-

It had been weeks without any form of activity, and Sylvain was bored. He leaned forward on his dashboard, staring half heartedly at the screen before him. It displayed the planet Earth and their targeted continent, Fodlan, in all its green and yellow glory. Individual dots lit up in several continents, indicating important humans going about their daily lives. 

As if any of them was important. He’d been waiting with Felix for Dimitri to arrive for goddess knew how long, and the same boring sight of a chunk of land was no longer enough to keep him entertained. Sure he could zoom in on the continent and observe female humans, but something about them just wasn’t as appealing as the other races he’d dealt with. Probably the fact that they only had two legs. 

He was alone in his ship, and hundreds of miles from Felix, who was floating in orbit halfway across the globe. That way, they wouldn’t miss Dimitri’s arrival. At first he’d entertained himself by talking to Felix, teasing him, riling him up with childhood memories…but now Felix had gotten tired of waiting, and reactivated his cybersleep. Sylvain was alone and bored, busy waiting for the signal from Dimitri’s ship when it came within a few hundred miles. 

He had no lungs, but if he did he would’ve yawned as he scrolled through the starmap programmed in his ship. Maybe next he could visit that planet with that plant species, or that one that was underwater. He’d always wanted to see what the bottom of the ocean looked like, and humans were not the ideal host for that. 

His search was interrupted by the screen suddenly flashing red. Sylvain jerked back at the sudden change, accompanied by a loud warning sound. His screen suddenly pulled up a video feed, displaying another Vexin ship—Dimitri’s—fortified with Nabatean tech. As he watched, he saw a black mass move on it, tearing through the ship as if it was nothing. 

Lichim.

He sat straight and immediately began typing, ordering the ship to prepare its claws. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d have to fight that Lichim, or at least shake it off their ships. They were slippery bastards, and his breed was definitely not meant for inter-space combat.

He was, after all, bred not for his combat abilities like Felix, not for his strength like Dimitri, but for his attractiveness and rare orange color which denoted him as a fancy form. But that wasn’t important now. Signaling an alert to Felix, he turned his ship around and shot to intercept Dimitri’s path. 

He made it about halfway before a shot broke straight through his ships armor, puncturing what would have been his sleeping pod and one of his thrusters. Sylvain had no way to tell where it came from as he frantically checked the screens, all flashing warnings, the cold air of space was leaking in and he wasn’t equipped to deal with it. His pod had been pierced and the frozen fluid had saved his life, preventing him from being sucked out, but it wouldn’t last forever. At maximum he had ten minutes before his body would freeze to death, and his ship was already plummeting towards earth. 

His ship shook again as another shot, what seemed to be bolts of pure light, broke through the back of his ship and impaled the dashboard right beside his arm. Right as he looked at the bolt, it vanished. It didn’t make sense—he wasn’t registering any danger except that Lichim, and—

It was gone. The screens were all red now, but it’s shape was gone, only black left behind where it had been. He could see Dimitri’s ship still on his screen, plummeting alongside his own, and realized almost immediately that wasn’t the remnants of a Lichim. It was a shadow. The shadow of something much, much deadlier than what they’d brought, and now they both were paying the price for it.

He didn’t even have a second to send an SOS out to Zanado before his ship entered Earth’s atmosphere and he braced for impact.

—————————

It was summer in Fodlan, and across the continent the warm evening saw many sleeping with their windows open. It had just rained, the fresh scent drifting through the air to tell of the storm passing over the land. For now the clouds hung over Fodlan’s Throat, gradually making their way into Almyra. 

Looking up at the night sky, watching the clouds slowly block out the stars, Claude von Riegan wouldn’t have expected anything out of the ordinary that night. He was staying at a summer palace by the Fodlan border, due to return to the Alliance in the next week. For now his life was made up of long and hot days under the Almyran sun, a temporary rest after his long spring of dealing with the Empire and the bickering Alliance nobles. For a good while now the Empire had been acting up, as if they were ready to drop some information upon the world which would immediately place it under their thumb. He might be one of the only forces bothering to try to keep Edelgard, the “princess” of the Empire (but in truth she did more for the Empire than the actual emperor did), from unleashing her unspoken secret weapon. And how did he do it? 

Nonstop negotiations, tournaments,races, competitions, dinners, fake internal conflicts in the Alliance, anything to make her abate for a few days. Spring had seen him work hard, and now he was given a three week reprieve to rest. It was the second week, and he was already rejuvenated. He’d called in that he would be returning within the week and had taken to packing the belongings still in this summer palace. 

But tonight, he let himself rest from even that, and watched the stars as they were slowly consumed by the coming storm. It reminded him of his current situation. The night air was cooler than the hot day, a breeze blowing across his face as he leaned out the window of his third story room. It was relaxing for now, but he knew it was the start of something fierce, something which would not be stopped as it marched across the continent, spreading its destruction everywhere.

In his mind, he thought of ways to deal with Edelgard. Perhaps he could put her against the Kingdom, run by Rudolph, and let them duke it out. But that risked the Alliance being brought into it should the Empire get confident. Perhaps he should slip something into her food—then again, that would be guaranteed war. Maybe he should make her Empire reliant on something that only the Alliance produced, giving them a reason not to attack...or perhaps even more of one. He could always just flee back into Almyra and vanish, but that would give up his ambitions for the world. At the current rate, there was no way Fodlan would accept Almyra, not with this threat hanging over it.

A raindrop brushed against his face. Claude paused to wipe it away and slowly backed into his room, closing the window just as a fierce gust of wind smacked against it. He flinched at the force, hearing the loud tack tack as large droplets began to hit against the glass. 

It was late—at least 12am. Perhaps it was time he went to sleep. But, looking at his room, and just how hot it was...well, it couldn’t hurt to open the window a crack. His sheets were thin, but they would still overheat him without some form of circulation. 

So he cracked the window a bit, enough so that only horizontal raindrops could get in. The wind gusts already found their way in, howling outside but providing him with a tame cool breeze inside. He turned away from the window and pulled his sheets back, sliding into bed just as a flash of lightning lit up his room.

It was stormy outside, but inside he was warm and covered by thin but soft sheets. He was safe, and just for a bit, far from the troubles that plagued him. The storm raged outside, but in this palace, he was safe. 

Maybe that was one way he could defend against Edelgard, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. 

——————-

In the dead of the morning, he was awoken by the loudest thunder he’d heard in his life. The sound was so great it broke through his dream, shattering his sleep like glass and causing him to jerk up in surprise. It felt as if the very earth was quaking! His pulse quickened, the shock of being awoken so suddenly sending adrenaline through his veins. 

Outside the storm still raged. The wind was blowing fiercely, the raindrops pelting his window. Looking up he thought he saw a bit of water gathered on the windowsill—oh well. That was a problem for tomorrow’s version of himself. 

Still, he felt compelled to move to the window, glancing out at the storm. There were no trees to blow in the wind, but through the torrent of rain he saw the plants swaying wildly. There was no indication of the earth moving, or anything which could have caused the earth to move. He glanced around, saw no movement, not even of the guards.

Still, his heart pounded in his chest. Perhaps a walk would do him some good—he found himself pacing a bit, just to get the adrenaline out of his system. Once it left, he would crash. What was the time? It must have been several hours, hadn’t it? 

He wouldn’t know, for the adrenaline left as soon as it came and he found himself passed out in no time at all, lying on his belly as he clutched a pillow to his face. It was a perfectly vulnerable position, with his back exposed to anyone sneaking in. An assassin would slit his throat in a single move and vanish into the night, leaving not a trace. 

But it wasn’t an assassin who crept in through the tiny crack he had left open in the window. The conical shape fell onto the floor and crept towards his bed, trailing water behind it. Soaked and freezing, it would need a host soon, lest it die and lose its hope.

How very convenient that it’s target was already in prime injection position. It climbed the wood of the bed frame, crept across the sheets, and gingerly made its way across the giant body beneath it. Finally, it stopped at the neck.

It couldn’t have been any bigger than an inch—perhaps less. From within the cone sprouted several tentacles, each tipped with a sharp needle like point. They all pierced at once, causing their host to jerk before the pain killing fluid they injected took effect. 

And now that the spot was numb, it was time to drill. 

—————————

Hundreds of miles away in the Adrestian Empire, a young woman was just setting up her painting supplies as the sun began to rise, painting the horizon in rays of gold. In the secluded hills outside of her estate, Bernadetta quickly adjusted her angle so that she could properly see the sunrise. For days she had been painting at this exact spot, depicting the landscape at the very crack of dawn, and now she was only a few sessions away from finishing it. All she needed was the very sun itself, surrounded by the purple clouds of the late night.

Setting her canvas properly in place, she began to squeeze out the paints for the sun--yellow and gold and orange and purple--in small puddles upon her palette, giving each adequate room so they wouldn’t mix. Then she retrieved her favorite brush from the jar of water she had placed by the easel and set to work at depicting the sun. It was rising just over the hill she had painted the day before, and she set a small dot of yellow where its current position was. 

She didn’t get any farther than that. A sudden gleam in the sky caught her attention, reminiscent of a falling star. No, in fact, it was a falling star! Her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of it; it was the first one she had ever seen. In all the stories she’d read, falling stars meant wishes. As it traced across the sky, she wondered what wish she would make to it--before realizing with a sinking feeling that something was off about it. 

She had read about falling stars, and none of them ever reported having a core, especially not a black triangular core. As she watched pieces of it flaked off and vanished in its burning trail, which seemed to be growing redder in color. And then her stomach dropped, for she realized that it was getting larger. 

Bernadetta yelped and glanced around for cover, abandoning her easel for the relative safety of the nearest copse of trees. They wouldn’t protect her from a falling star, but the shadows they cast almost mirrored her room, and she ducked under their leaves and covered her head, fully ready for death. As the star grew ever nearer, she heard what sounded to be a roar. The sound grew louder and louder, until--

It shot just overhead, sending a burst of heat over her as it did so. Bernadetta peeked out through one eye and turned her head towards its direction, only to flinch back into herself when an ear splitting CRACK shook the very ground around her. She hugged herself tighter until it subsided and even then did not leave her shelter for quite a while. When at last she did, the first action she took was checking her painting. It had been knocked over, but thankfully hadn’t fallen onto the palette she’d dropped. Unfortunately, the jar of water had fallen onto it, causing it to run. 

She groaned in a mixture of sorrow and frustration. Her painting was ruined, and it was all that stupid stars fault! Why couldn’t it have landed elsewhere? Like in Ferdinand’s territory! He’d probably be ecstatic about the star and make a weapon out of it, and then come to her estate and break down her door with it and make her go to the races with him and then PROPOSE to her in public so she wouldn’t have the choice to say no and then she’d be trapped in marriage with him and have to raise kids and was horrible with kids! She let out wail and quickly gathered up her painting supplies, nope she wanted absolutely nothing to do with this star, the servants could clean it up later anyways! But no one should ever find out she was painting in the hills, otherwise she’d have to break her brushes and give up the hobby for good. 

As she grabbed her items she realized that a large plume of smoke was rising from the south, the very direction she would have to travel to go home. Otherwise it was an extra hour over the hills on uncharted ground back to her room...she groaned and began her slow walk home. Why did that stupid star have to crash on her fastest route home? The sun had barely risen, and she was already having horrible luck! Maybe she should stay in her room all week, to ensure that no other bad luck could come her way, or maybe two weeks. 

She reached the top of a hill and paused. Down below, in the dip where the hills began their conversion into the properly maintained lawn of a noble, a large crater had ruined at least two hundred feet worth of land. All the flowers and grasses had been reduced into a charred mess of upturned soil. In the center of it all was an object that reminded her of a drill made of strange black metal, four leg-like contraptions poking out of the various sides of it. Each one was broken, with two being reduced to mere stumps.

The object itself looked like it had been pierced through multiple times. As she neared, she saw more and more holes torn out of the drill itself, as well as its flat top. Out of one hole a strange fluid poured out, orange in color, and seemed to resist being absorbed into the soil. 

Bernadetta minded her distance, suddenly very aware of how big it was--more than three times her own height, that was for sure. Was it some kind of alien craft? Oh goddess, was this evidence of extraterrestrials? If they found it on her land, would they ask her about it? Would she be taken in by Edelgard? What if there was something inside?!

The thought terrorized her and she turned on her heel to run away at full speed--

Just as a voice rang out. She could hardly make it out, couldn’t decipher what it said, but the sound of it, garbled and metallic, froze her on the spot. Slowly, she turned, facing the alien craft with wide eyes. 

“H...hello?” She whispered, hugging her easel so tightly it would’ve snapped should she had an ounce more of strength. At first, there was no reply. 

Out of one of the holes she spotted something orange in color. It reminded her of a worm, but much longer. As she watched it slowly crept out, and then another, and then another, and she realized suddenly that they weren’t all individual worms, but connected together, wrapped like a rope. Together they seemed to collectively feel the ground before retreating back into the hole. 

“H̡̛̬͖̟̘͎ ̶̧̧͕̣̘̖͝e̶̴̘̖̭̙̫͕͉̞̞̘̺͙͙͇͡ ͢͞҉͖̥̜̮͕͍̤̝̭̩̞̪̗̮̜͇̕  
̴͔͙̺͢  
͜͠͏͇̻̘̫̻͈̪̱̺̝̻̞͔̠̠͓̟ͅḼ̵̛̺͍̳̪ͅ ̸̣͉̱͍͚̰̗̰͍̫  
͘͢͡͏̖̖̤̳̳̯͜ ̴̧͇͍͈̙͔̥̝͔̕͝ ̸̡͇̙͈͕͉̘̫L̘̜̯̜̞̰͉̱̭̤̞̝̠͖̮̙̩̕͜͞ ̴̣̖̰̙͉͎͔̝̤̮̕͝͠ ̢̢̤͈̼̫̹͔̟  
̶̧͙̦̺̯̦̥̼͍̣̼͓̖̣͘͟ͅͅH͉̥͓̩̤͓̗̹͠e͏̸̧͔̻͎͕̠͖͔͉͉̼̙̹̼͜ ̩̩̤͎̭͉͝ļ͏̳͚̣ ̷̛̭̻̣̣͈̗͖̹̗̰͚̘̼̻̕  
̵̲̜͓̯̘̥̫͙̝̺̱̣̯͇͉͜͠ ̵͢͏̶̛̰̹͓̝̩̞͈̩̗͇̦͚L͏̡͔͉͈̱͚͇̱̦̖̦̦͍͎ ̸̷̪̥͉̟̭͍̻̮̝̗͈̝͕̙̞  
̷̯͍̬͖̠̱͘͜͢

S̡̡̖͓̳̜̺̙̘̬͉̘̳̰̯͢

O̵̷͐͒̓̒̎̔̿͋̈́̀̚͢͢  
S”  
The gargle she heard sounded like a mechanical voice choking on static. As unnerving as the voice was, it sent cold shivers up her spine when she made out those three letters: SOS. Help. 

Something was in there, mechanical or alive, and it was calling for help. Her heart was pounding with fear, and she felt as if she would throw up, but the knowledge of the request for help touched a chord in her, the basic human instinct to give aid to creatures in need. It was the reason why the species had lasted so long, and perhaps now it would be the reason one would end.

She took one trembling step forward. “Is-isanyone! Is. Is anyone there? Hello?” She stammered, holding the easel now as if it was a sword. “Are you okay? Well I mean no you’re not okay and you asked for help but I uh...um...I’m sorry! I just…”

A loud static buzz made her jump, followed by a slightly lower garbling. Then she heard the voice again, but this time pitched slightly higher and sounding less robotic. It seemed to be emanating from the hole she had seen the “worms” emerge from.

“W̴̨̐h̡ͤͩo͐̀̀̔̊͟͞'̸́̄ͥs̴ͭͫ̄͐ͣͥ̃͜͡ there?” It asked, followed by a quiet gargle. “Wait...no...that’s not…”

“I’m um….I’m Bernadetta! AndI’msuperscarysodon’ttryanything!” She tried her best to keep the tremble from her voice, but the fear was so present now that her legs were trembling. Her instincts were telling her to bolt. 

“Berna...detta. That’s a gorgeous name. I bet you’ve...got a face to match it, don’t you…”

She paused. Was it...flirting with her? Wait...this pretty much...this proved alien life, and it was flirting with her?! But before she could react it was speaking again.

“Would you...help me? My name is Sylvain...Vexin of Planet Zanado. I mean you no harm, I promise.” 

“Z-Zanado? Where’s that? Wait, what’s a Vexin? Wait, you’re an alien! I’m talking to an alien! Oh no, now they’re going to come here and ask me about the alien and I’m gonna get locked up and they’re gonna put me on display and I’ll never see my room again!” Bernadetta wailed, completely forgetting about the alien for a moment. What had it said its name was?

“Yeah...sounds about accurate…” it replied, several worm-like appendages falling out to splat upon the ground. They were connected to nothing and bled out an orange color--the same as that fluid she’d seen before, she realized. That meant…

“But I think...we can stop that,” it reassured. “I just...need some help. Please…”

She swallowed, hard. “What-what does that mean? What kind of help? Wait, why am I even still here! I should run! I should--”

“No!” It sounded desperate. “Please, please don’t run. I won’t hurt you, I promise! You don’t even...you don’t even need to do much. Please, just come closer.”

“What?! Why! Are you just going to eat me the moment I come closer? Oh my goddess, you’re an alien! What are you gonna do?!”

“What…? I’m...I just need help getting out of my ship. Please, I’ve been shot through, and my shell was useless against the force of impact. I’ve been crushed, and I can’t pull myself out. Would you grab my...arm?...and pull?”

She cringed at the request. Touch those slimy worms? Not to mention touch an ALIEN!? What if it just wanted to eat her? It had said it wouldn’t, but who was to say it would stay true, it was an alien after all, and they couldn’t even trust those scary Almyrans, and--

“Please...I’m dying. I’ve lost so much blood already...it’s getting hard to see...I don’t know how long I’ll still be able to talk…” 

Out of the hole she saw more appendages fall, though these ones were connected to what must’ve been the alien’s body. Her legs felt like jelly at the sight of them slowly, carefully feeling the ground, trying weakly to pull themselves out. It just wanted her to grab and pull, right? But...those slimy, gross looking things…

But...it was dying. It didn’t seem very strong. Should she…? Oh, but it felt like suicide! Like idiocy! What if it grabbed her and ate her!? What if this was all a ruse to kidnap her like they had for Garreg Mach!? What if she slipped on the blood and got crushed?! Or broke her spine!? Or--

“H..ello?” It sounded weaker, and broke off into quiet static. 

She swallowed, hard, and took a wobbly step forward. The contraption was leaning, so the hole she would have to approach was already close to the ground. If she kneeled, and braced on her legs...oh, but she’d have to lean in the blood! And it could grab her ankles! 

No, she would have to banish those thoughts, she had to help this...thing! It was dying, after all...but then what would she do when it was free? What would she…

The static cut off. Bernadetta blinked and steeled herself, slowly holding out her easel to poke at the tentacles. They didn’t move, limp as a dead fish. With a hard swallow, she reached out to the appendages still hanging out. Her hand closed around them, like catching the frays of a rope, and she had to release her easel and supplies in order to get a proper grip. They didn’t feel solid, but at least they didn’t feel slimy like she’d thought. In fact, they seemed almost to have a proper grip immediately upon her hands as she braced and pulled. 

At first, nothing. Her strength was too little to even budge the alien. 

The tentacles suddenly wrapped around her arms and bound them together. She had just enough time to let out a scream as the entire body of the alien launched out of the hole, like a cat pouncing upon its prey, and pinned her to the ground, coating her vision in orange--then black. A painful prick stabbed into the back of her neck, and the world dropped away as her consciousness faded.


	2. Claude + Dimitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude has some neck pain and Dimitri finally wakes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i just say i didn't expect this to get any kind of attention? everyone has been so sweet it's all so overwhelming!!!! thank you so much to everyone who reads this, and a special thank you to everyone who comments and leaves kudos! you guys gave me the motivation to work on this more. that said, apologies for the late update, college just tends to drain me

When Claude awoke to the sunlight of the morning, it was with the worst neck pain he had ever experienced in his life. He had flipped over in his sleep and was lying on his side, neck slightly bent at an angle as his head rested upon what were otherwise some of the softest pillows in the land. And yet despite every precaution that could’ve been taken, the spike of pain he felt in his neck indicated that he’d slept on it wrong. 

He groaned and shifted so he was laying on his back, trying not to jar his neck too much as his position changed. Still the tiny alteration sent a stab of pain running down his spine, as if a dozen needles penetrated the bone all at once. He hissed and raised one arm to the afflicted area, gently pressing the muscles to see which was the most afflicted.

The spot at the base of his skull sent a flare of pain through him when his fingertips brushed over it. Bingo. He gingerly pressed down upon it, feeling for a muscle knot. 

Strangely, the flesh beneath him felt almost...spongy. It sank a little beneath his fingers, as if a hole had been formed, filled, and healed long ago. Which was odd, because he didn’t remember ever having gotten a wound right at the base of his skull. 

But...then again, a neck problem wasn’t exactly a reason for panic. If it was an assassination attempt he’d be dead, so he let that fear driven thought fall away from his mind. There were other, much more likely options--maybe he had just developed a wound there a while ago and hadn’t noticed it. Maybe it was a growth, or some kind of strange muscle knot. That was more likely, since muscle knots seemed to love forming for virtually no reason. The flesh didn’t seem disturbed or hurt in any way, so he assumed it was just something internal and let the topic drop. Perhaps a visit to a massage therapist was in order, or just a few neck exercises in his morning routine. 

It hurt, but he would have to move. Slowly, Claude sat up, trying his best not to jar his neck as he did so. A dozen daggers still found their way into his neck, and the pain was so intense it made him dizzy. He managed to stand, turning to support himself on the bed, and nearly fainted at the sight which befell him. 

The spot where he had been lying the night before was covered in a puddle of dried blood. 

\----

For the next week, Claude was forced to rest. The pain in his neck was so intense that it could make him dizzy and constantly induced headaches, preventing him from properly returning to Fodlan as he planned to. Upon hearing of what had happened at the summer palace, his father had had all the servants removed and questioned, and when no one could be conclusively determined or removed as a suspect, dismissed them. They were now kept under watch, though they were free to continue their lives. 

Claude himself immediately was seen by a doctor. The puddle of blood which had been formed on his bed indicated that he should be dead or bearing a wound as large as his palm on his neck; neither of those were true, and they were both befuddled by it. Testing his blood for toxins revealed nothing, so unless a new combination of chemicals which were specifically injected at the base of the head had recently been formed, there were no poisons in his system. Even so, Claude took every kind of cure he was permitted from the doctor, and brewed some of his own in his own personal lab. 

Finally, there was the strange wound. Through the use of pictures, Claude was given a good look at it: it was about the width of a small acorn, just a little bigger than the nail on his thumb. It was circular in shape, bore a small resemblance to scar tissue, and was just barely sunk into his skin. Otherwise, it was just like the rest of his skin. The doctor was at first puzzled by it, then concerned, and made him wait for nearly an hour while they took the images to their coworkers. At last they came forth with something conclusive: ringworm. He was given a packet of medicine, instructions on how much to take per day, and told to clean anything that the patch of skin would have come into contact with. 

It still didn’t answer the puddle of blood in his bed or his neck pain. At best they believed that his neck pain was caused by him sleeping on it wrong, but no one had any idea as to how his bed had become stained with such a massive puddle of blood. As he drove back to the summer palace he was staying in (for Claude wasn’t a big fan of being driven around by servants), it was all that filled his mind. No poison or injury, just a fungal infection, and yet there was so much blood he should be dead. Something wasn’t lining up, and he for once didn’t have much of an answer as to why. 

His thoughts were focused on the prospect of an assassin, and that created an entire world of trouble. If they were Almyran, they were essentially standing against the royal family. If they were from Fodlan, that meant someone with power had found out his secret, which was another can of worms. If they knew he was the Almyran prince, there was no promise he would be allowed to continue as Duke Riegan in the Alliance. 

All he could conclusively say was that the whole situation blew a hole in his plans. The news that Claude von Riegan would not be returning at his promised time lead to more than a few Alliance nobles complaining, and he had to turn to Lorenz to handle them. It was nice having a friend who could help you out in politics--even if you sometimes ended up standing on different ends of the spectrum. Lorenz at least came to his aid when he needed it, and outside of business was a fairly pleasant person (when he wasn’t extremely focused on being as noble as possible). 

But a bit more concerning was Edelgard. Claude had to cancel two events he had planned to host which she would have been involved in, and all he’d gotten from the Empire was silence. No news can be good news, but in the same way it can mean the Empire is plotting to take over Fodlan and kill everyone and just not to let anyone know about it. And sure, one of those events involved the Kingdom and could potentially upset Rudolph, but he was far less worried about the Kingdom attacking or becoming unruly--their cold winters meant that they were scrapped for supplies as was and that during summer they couldn’t really afford to be running around pointing guns. 

It was after a week that the pain finally vanished completely. One day, he had been experiencing headaches and had trouble just turning his head, and the next, every symptom of it was gone. One day he had been forced to stay at the summer palace, impatiently waiting for his affliction to leave and prodding every corner for clues of an assassin he was still convinced existed, and the next all his waiting had paid off. It appeared that the medication had worked, for when he felt the back of his neck for that familiar indent, it was gone without a trace, as if it simply had never existed in the first place. For the first time in a long time, Claude felt a bit of relief over a situation ending, for this one hadn’t created a new one. 

And now, he could return to his plans. With the last of his bags packed, Claude spent his last night in the summer palace out on a walk. The moon was waning, but the light was still strong enough to illuminate the grounds as he traversed them with only his phone flashlight--not that it was very necessary. The grounds were relatively flat, and though they were spread out, the paths were all paved with stone. Small plants grew between the cracks and by the sides, the flowers lifting their petals to the sky and the sawgrass baring their fangs at all who passed by. The summer palace had gardens, but they were small and much less grand than one would expect; sure, there was a fountain which could spit water in three directions at once, but one could always attribute it to some mess-up in the pipes. 

The plants that he passed by ranged from small shrubs to tall orchids and crocuses. There were even (by his request) poisonous plants ranging from monkshood to nightshade to elusive rosary pea(most people weren’t allowed near that one). Claude himself had planted and replanted a few of them, growing them indoors at first and using them as part of his childhood fascination with brewing poisons. Of course, those tended to be more fatal, so he had leaned towards plants such as white snakeroot and false hellebore as his hobby expanded. 

The gardens were set up so that three paths ran through them; Claude’s favorite always went through the poisonous section. It bore no arches but rather small fences to keep prying hands at bay (and for good reason). A few ivy vines, ever the tenacious monsters, crept across the stone. He stepped over them cautiously, knowing better than to let them touch his bare skin.

Eventually, he came to the clearing where the fountain was and seated himself on one of the three benches present. These gardens were much smaller than the royal ones, but at least their smallness let him customize them a bit more to his liking. Surrounded by his poisonous plants, one of his secret hobbies, he felt a little more at peace with the world. 

Which was nice, because come morning he was returning to the turmoil that was Fodlan. It was...well, he might call it a curse to care so much about it, but it gave his life a bit more purpose than just ascending the throne of Almyra. 

His gaze rose to the night sky, focusing on the stars above. There were so many constellations up above, and he could name almost all of them. To the south, the Wyvern swooped; to the east, the Archer poised; to the west, the King’s Cup collected more stars; to the north, the Blue Sea Star still hung in the air. He’d observed that one for a long time--over the seasons, it would move across the sky and vanish before returning the next year. As a child he’d always wondered if one year it just wouldn’t come back. 

The Blue Sea Star. What a concept. A planetary body, far bigger and greater than he ever would be, peeking its head over a planet smaller than itself to observe the turmoil going on below.

as it watches over us all.

“Wha?” 

He jerked at the sudden voice, head whipping around as he searched for the owner. It had sounded as if someone had spoken right next to him in response to his thoughts. But that didn’t make much sense, and there was no sign of anyone around. 

The tranquility of the scene was a bit ruined, but Claude wrote off the voice as being nothing but his imagination. It was late anyways, better he get off to bed. 

He stood up, and his legs felt wobbly, as if they had never been used before. The feeling was so shocking to him that he immediately fell, barely managing to catch himself on his arms. But just as he fell his legs stabilized, and he was able to recover as if nothing had happened. He tested them both, held one out and shook it, tried bending them both and taking a step forward. 

Weird, but what could he do? He’d likely been sitting for too long, even as his own survival instincts told him that it might have been something else. Or perhaps the poison in the air had gotten to his head. He laughed a bit at that thought--how ironic that the one who planted them would be killed by the very seeds he’d tended to. 

and how truly sad.

The voice again, causing him to whip around. “Hey! Who’s there?” 

He was answered by silence, and decided to take a shortcut back into the summer palace. The guards welcomed him back in, though he refused to be seen to by any servants. His time in Fodlan and Garreg Mach had gotten him used to taking care of himself, and now it just felt weird to be constantly cared for.

After climbing two flights of stairs, he made his way to his room, which had been changed by request and better secured. He unlocked it with the key provided to only him and the housekeeper and stepped into the half empty room, closing and locking the door behind him. Claude removed both of his boots and made a beeline for his bed, flopping upon it as he pulled his phone out to check his social media. 

There were a few texts from Hilda and Lorenz, an official looking one from Ignatz about the state of merchants visiting the Alliance, and...one from his father. Claude almost cringed at the sight; those usually weren’t good news. So of course he checked it first. 

His father tended to text in full paragraphs and was straight to the point. The message he sent was long, but the gist of it was clear: while he respected Claude’s wishes to return to Fodlan and deal with the Alliance, the king of Almyra was requesting his son return within a few weeks, as there was something secretive that he must discuss with him, something which couldn’t be discussed over a phone that could be traced or hacked. 

Claude sighed. Maybe it was some big family secret? Or some kind of relic, like when they’d given him Failnaught. Or maybe it was the secret information the Empire had been hiding, found out by Almyra, being given him to tell him how futile it was to try and fight it.

He gave his father an appropriately long response with the etiquette he’d been taught, knowing it would be abandoned if they were meeting face to face. Before he was even back in Fodlan, he was making plans to return to Almyra. But as he hit send, a thought occurred to him: his father hadn’t acknowledged his sickness.

A little odd, since his father knew as well as he did that he had to keep his ailment from the public eye.

Then he checked what Hilda had sent him. 

So you’re coming back from vacation tomorrow, right? What do you say to a movie night, just like what we used to do in Garreg Mach? I know it’s a bit sudden, but Marianne and Lorenz have tomorrow night free, so I thought we could all get together and do something we used to! If you’re still not feeling well, don’t feel like you’re obligated to attend. 

A small grin crept across his face. It was a nice thought, going to spend a night with his friends, just like what they used to do in school on the weekends. And if it was just a night...why not?

Sure, he texted back, but you’re the one paying for pizza.

And before Hilda could text him back at the ripe hour of 12:54am, telling him just how rude it was to pin her with purchasing food for everyone, Claude set his phone down and went to sleep. 

\----------

At 6ppm the following day he stood before the door to Hilda’s apartment. It wasn’t hard to figure out which was hers--he didn’t know if there were any rules against decorating in this building, but Hilda had nonetheless made her door her own: there were small flower stickers on it, accompanied by a unicorn on a rainbow and a pink sign hanging from the doorknob which read “Certified Cute Zone”. He tried his best not to snicker at the designs as he knocked on the otherwise dull wood. 

Almost immediately the door swung open, and before he could even say hi to Hilda she was scooping him up in a hug. Claude wheezed as the air was forced from his lungs, his feet leaving the ground as Hilda lifted him with ease. 

“Hey Mr Alliance Leader!” She chirped, placing him down and ignoring his stagger. “Come on in, you’re late by twenty seconds!”

“Th-thanks, Hilda,” he choked out, then coughed. “Whew, you’ve gotten stronger.” 

Hilda beamed at the compliment, closing the door behind him as he entered. “I’m still a delicate flower, though! And how dare you keep this delicate flower waiting!”

Hilda’s apartment was a mess, but it was a kind of organized mess. She had been working as a fashion designer ever since she’d left Garreg Mach and had been met with a wealth of success--and responsibility. Though her hatred of said responsibility was strong, her love for designing for equally strong, and they tended to balance each other out. 

Her living room has clearly been organized before he’d arrived, the mannequins upon which her designs hung moved to the corners and walls. Her work desk, which usually sat before the pink couch, had been moved behind it to make room for friends (it still held a sewing machine, fabric, and a wealth of pins, though). In the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by only a counter, the dishes had been done and all surfaces wiped down. Upon the walls, the flower pattern tapestries seemed to shine from the light of the floor lamp, indicating that they’d finally been dusted. The wooden floor had been cleared of fabric scraps, and judging from the lack of spare thread lying around, had also been vacuumed. 

Seated on the couch was Marianne, who glanced up from her book on common animal viruses and smiled at him. Behind her, leaning on Hilda’s work desk, was Lorenz, who was busy making a face at whoever he was on the phone. Upon seeing Claude, he waved with one hand before returning to his call. 

Claude couldn’t help but smile at the sight: they were all so mismatched it was almost humorous! While Hilda was dressed in her casual wear with a pink crop top and black sweatpants (but still wearing her black choker and several silver bracelets), Marianne was still wearing her veterinary scrubs and button up shirt, while Lorenz was dressed neatly in a purple suit vest and white shirt, as if he were about to head to an important meeting. Claude himself had dressed relatively casual with a yellow shirt and brown slacks, and looked perhaps a bit more scruffy than he had intended this morning. He’d given himself a break in that aspect, though--none of his friends had to cross the border on the back of a wyvern to avoid detection.

Hilda gave him a nudge. “Make yourself comfy! Pizza’s on the way thanks to Lorenz, a true gentleman who wouldn’t make a poor lady pay!” 

Claude rolled his eyes. “Or rather, someone who lets himself get manipulated by a pretty face a little easier than others.”

Lorenz looked like he wanted to retort, but couldn’t mess up with whoever he was speaking to. 

“Anyways, get comfy!” Hilda ordered, heading for the hallway past the kitchen which led to the rest of her apartment. “I’m gonna go get our movie selections. We’ll vote on which ones we want!” She threw open the first door on the left and vanished into it.

Claude smiled and set his overnight bag down besides the couch, seating himself a few feet from Marianne. He knew she liked her space. Behind them, Lorenz finally finished his call and slipped his phone into his pocket with a sigh. 

“I swear, my father gets more difficult by the day,” he groaned. “Now he’s talking about having me work for the Empire, while he runs our Alliance relations.”

“Sounds like a pain,” Claude said, turning his head to look back at his friend. “Of course, the whole Alliance is a pain anyways, so wouldn’t it remove some of your grief?”

“Yes, but if I’m to work for the Empire, I’ll have to move to the Empire!”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“My lands are in the Alliance, not the Empire! Claude, are you even thinking of what you are saying? My removal would not result in your work becoming any easier, you know!”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling I’d hear about Acheron a lot less if you were in the Empire,” Claude teased. 

Lorenz gave him a look. “Perhaps you only feel that way because you don’t deal with him every other day.” He scoffed and rubbed his forehead. “Just the other day I had to ride out--not drive out--to his territory because he insisted that if I went by car, it would scare his prize horses into another field! It took me an extra hour to arrive there and an extra hour to leave! My legs are still hurting from it.” 

At that moment Hilda returned with her laptop under one arm and plopped herself in between Claude and Marianne. “Alright, I’ve got the website up, so all we have to do is pick what we want to watch first! What do you guys think?”

They had planned to watch at least three movies in their marathon, or at least until one of them crashed. To keep them awake, of course, Hilda had included at least one horror movie, which by popular vote ended up being their first (Lorenz thought that horror movies were “unnecessary and foolish” and had voted for a classic, which they all elected to see last). After Hilda had pulled the coffee table over to the couch and placed her laptop down upon it, ensuring it was plugged in so it wouldn’t die, their pizza arrived. 

It seemed like a perfect relaxing night as they all crammed together on Hilda’s couch, eating pizza off of paper plates (except Lorenz, who insisted that he’d prefer not to eat such “base” food). The lights were off, the movie had started, and Claude was permitted to have an entire blanket to himself due to his previous sickness. Next to him, Lorenz still sat as straight as he’d been taught, and Hilda was leaning on Marianne. 

It seemed perfect, just like what they’d done in school. 

Until he began to develop a headache. At first Claude wrote it off as just a bit of eye strain, as he was staring at a laptop in the dark, but it only worsened as time progressed. They were thirty minutes into the movie, and his eyes and head were aching like mad. A twitch developed in his limbs, bringing about an unfamiliar restlessness. At every little noise from the laptop he flinched, every crack of a twig and loud breath, until they accumulated in a scream, at which he cringed. Their scream was so loud, and the laptop was so bright, and next to him, Lorenz was so warm. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, tried to force his discomfort down, but it only worsened. 

Eventually he said he was going to the bathroom and retreated down the hall, glad to escape from what should have been relaxing. Goddess, what was wrong with him? Was he getting sick again?

He turned into the bathroom and turned on the light, wincing at how bright it was. Claude moved to the sink and gathered some cold water in his hands, tried splashing it on his face. The sensation, which he had thought might snap him back to reality, hit him like a ton of bricks. The extreme heat vanished and he was suddenly extremely cold, so much so that he shivered, goosebumps rapidly spreading over his skin. He raised his head, looked into the mirror at his wide green eyes, and saw that they were almost bloodshot. 

What was wrong with him? It felt as if all his senses were extended. He could hear the minute buzz of the light above, which shouldn’t even have one. The distant movie grated on his ears, as if he was mere inches from speakers turned up to max. The fluorescent light from above made his eyes feel as if they were burning even though his pupils were pinpricks. 

His own breathing was suddenly so clear to him. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears. The blood rushing through his veins was a roar that made him itchy all over. And when he moved, he felt it too well. It was as if he’d become hyper aware of every muscle moving in his body, so much so that he didn’t want to move. The gentle floral scents of Hilda’s bathroom invaded his sinuses and overwhelmed them, making him feel as if he’d vomit. Even his mouth wasn’t unaffected--the taste of his own saliva was so apparent to him all of a sudden, and it was disgusting.

Claude closed his eyes and tried to focus, tried to use his own breathing to calm and ground himself like he’d learned in meditation, but it was useless. He leaned on the sink, hating the sensation of all his muscles flexing to allow himself to do it. In his mind, he swore he felt like there was someone else watching, someone else thinking inside of him. 

The thought made him even colder, so cold that he shivered and opened his eyes. In the mirror, he could see his face, still a little damp from the water. Every individual hair on his head was obvious to him, the few strands which hung down onto his forehead suddenly so irritating. Every pore on his face was suddenly so obvious, as if he’d had the worst breakout in history. The small strands of his partial beard were so itchy, and his lips were so dry. 

But perhaps worst of all were his eyes. He couldn’t stop focusing on them, on every different shade of green within them, on every individual vein pumping blood into them. They were so…

beautiful.

He froze. It felt like, from the back of his brain, someone was staring out through his eyes, watching him, taking in every individual flaw on his body, feeling it all at once, becoming comfortable with it. Someone else was in his head. His vision began to narrow, until all he could take in were his own eyes, and their beautiful green color, their tiny pupils, and how badly his headache was growing. 

A sea of green rose up and pulled him under, and then he wasn’t Claude anymore. 

\------------------------

Dimitri braced himself at the sudden influx of control. His host’s arms almost gave out under him, for he’d barely learned to control them yet. His head dropped, almost colliding with the mirror, and he barely managed to stop himself from it. For a moment he had his host’s body cease, merely hanging above this contraption and focusing on breathing. Yes, now he had to focus on breathing, moving air into the lungs, and out...quite different from his own anatomy. He didn’t know too much about humans, but it felt like such a hassle to have to focus on breathing. At least his host had bothered to show him with that little demonstration before he’d taken control.

Finally, he managed to slowly lift himself up and stare into the mirror. His host was rather pretty, in his opinion, with light brown skin and dark brown hair to match it. But perhaps most appealing were its eyes, which were now starting to adjust to the light in the room. Their green color reminded him of the flora back on Zanado. 

But enough about that. He had his mission to focus on. He had been injured from crashing, and had barely managed to find a host--it was a blessing from the Goddess he was still alive. Even so, he’d been so exhausted from surviving, crawling, and drilling that upon injection, he’d fallen asleep. How long had it been? How much time did he have left? He didn’t know, but with luck he’d manage to use this human to answer his questions--and then proceed with his mission. 

He braced himself on its legs and took a wobbly step, like a baby deer learning how to stand. Almost immediately he fell, and the pain receptors covering his host’s body let him know what that cost. He hissed, surprised that the sound came out through his host’s mouth, and attempted to right himself. It took a moment, but he managed to stand back up and place a hand on the wall, which was painted a light pink color. 

Then there was the issue of the door. He found that it would not open, not when he pushed or pulled on it. Looking down, he saw a small circular metal contraption about halfway on it--perhaps that held the answer. With a bit of testing, he found that grabbing and turning it produced a reaction, and if he grabbed it, turned it, and pushed, the door opened. It was a lot of steps for opening a door, but he supposed humans must be cautious; they didn’t seem to have many methods of defense. 

In that way they reminded him a bit of Sylvain, one of his best friends. Beautiful, and yet so delicate as a result of it. Well, perhaps not all humans were as pretty as his host, but the cost was still the same.

Stepping out into the hallway, he heard screams coming from nearby, which caused the hairs on the back of his host’s neck to rise. A defense mechanism in response to fear, designed to make his host appear larger; likely vestigial, as humans did not have much hair on their bodies. So whatever was causing such a disruption, his host did not like, and it was likely hostile. Dimitri quickly checked the defense mechanisms at his disposal: he could pump in epinephrine...and that was about it. Otherwise, he only had his body to defend him. No spines, tentacles, claws, acid, wings, tails...what a defenseless race! Even its teeth were ineffective!

Were there any alternate measures of escape? He looked back to the room he’d been in and saw a square window leading to the outdoors. Perhaps he could take that way! Still leaning on the wall for support, he returned into the small room he’d been in before and looked out the window. It showed the sky and the tops of buildings...how high up was he? He glanced down, but could only see the ground far away, not the ground directly below him. His attempts at opening the window were met with failure; it wouldn’t budge. So the only way out that didn’t involve direct danger was blocked…

Well, not if he destroyed it. He indicated for the body to use more of its strength, to cease its limitations, and clenched a fist. Then, in one swift move that probably required much less strength than he used, he shattered the window with a single blow, sending dozens of glass shards into his host’s hand and arm. 

There was blood, he noted as he pulled his hand and arm back in. There were shards of glass embedded in his flesh that were too small to pull out, as well. But he could fix both. He closed his eyes and focused upon the area, upon the blood flowing in and out, the flesh which was pierced, the muscles which constricted. And without even moving his hand, every individual glass piece was forced out by the body, falling to the ground far below. 

Of course, the blood he would have to worry about later. Dimitri focused on the release of his own special healing chemical, one his species had made for centuries to ensure the safety of their hosts, and sent it on the pathway to the afflicted area. Then, he leaned out the broken window. 

Right as he noticed that the ground was too far away to safely jump to, he heard a shriek behind him and whipped around, gaining a slice on his forehead in the process from the broken window. The pink-haired human was standing in the hall, a look of outrage on her face. Not good--outraged humans were prone to attack, and he was already injured, so he must--

“CLAUDE! What in the name of the Goddess are you doing!” Hilda demanded, shoving him aside to gape at her broken window. “Why did you break my window?!” She glared at him.

Dimitri, however, was only just processing what she had said. His helmet, which had been revised by Nabatean technology, had a translator in it, but he was still unsure how to properly speak as his host. “I..” he began and trailed off, trying to think of what to say in human that could possibly placate her. But his thoughts were interrupted when he realized, how was he going to blend in? What if they caught on that he was inhuman? 

“UGH! This was supposed to be a stress-free night, Claude!” Claude? Was that his host’s name? “Grrr...you’re paying for this, and don’t try to weasel your way out of it!” 

“I...am. Sorry.” Sorry was a placating word, was it not? It seemed to work a little bit, for almost immediately the other human’s expression changed. 

“Oh my Goddess, Claude your hand!” She almost reached forward to take it, then decided otherwise. “What were you even thinking? Quick, get it elevated!” 

She screamed out into the hallway a name which he didn’t know, and a word which he did: help. Then she pushed past him and opened the mirror, revealing several shelves of strange objects--no, supplies. Dimitri watched her curiously, unsure of just what she was doing as she pulled out a thick white roll with a hollow center, a large brown bottle, and what looked to be several squares of a white cloth. 

He was suddenly aware of the presence of another human--two other humans, in fact. Looking into the hallway, he saw another female human, this one with blue hair, and a purple haired...male? It looked male. Both of them were staring at him incredulously. 

“Marianne! Quick, you know how to do this stuff!” The pink-haired human grabbed the wrist of the blue-haired one and pulled her in, telling her information too fast for Dimitri to properly make out. 

The blue-haired one slowly nodded and turned to him, taking his hand and pulling it over the contraption he’d been leaning on before. She placed it under the strange metal pipe and turned one the crystalline looking knobs beside it--and out poured water, activating every pain receptor in his host’s hand.

He gritted his teeth at the sudden influx. 

“Sorry,” the human said, watching the fluid turn pink with blood. She turned the knob again and the water stopped, but then she raised the brown bottle and poured its fluid over his hand. “Please, try to hold still.”

Dimitri nearly yanked his hand back at the feeling. Something akin to a groan emitted from his host, at which the pink-haired human frowned. “I know it hurts, Claude, but this is what you get for punching through glass! Though...I’m amazed there’s no glass shards.” 

The blue-haired human set to covering his cuts in the white squares, holding them down with the other white substance--it seemed to be tape. Then, she moved onto his forehead cut. This one she dabbed at with a wet cloth before applying the burning fluid as well in a similar manner. To complete it all, he was given another strange bandage. 

It was all so foreign to Dimitri--his species merely took their scars and bled. They would heal without any outside intervention, and it wasn’t uncommon to see one of them walking around with half their tentacles missing. But humans...perhaps it was their social instinct, making them treat each other and show such strange concern. 

When they were done, the blue-haired one began to ask him a few questions which he couldn’t make out. Something about “medication” and “motive” and “side-effects”. He stood in silence, staring at her face, taking in her details. Her hair was braided up into a bun, a common hairstyle for the busy, and her flesh was very pale. 

“Claude? Hey, Claude, are you going to answer?” It was the pink-haired one now, waving her hand at him. His eyes followed it, curious as to why she would perform such an action. The purple-haired one knit his brows and said something in a concerned voice. 

So much noise. He just wanted to perform his mission, why weren’t these humans leaving him alone? He blinked and tried to take a step forward, immediately fell, and was held up by the pink-haired one. The purple-haired one offered her help, upon which she happily dumped his body. 

“Claude, you look a little pale,” the purple-haired one said. “Are you feeling well? Is this a resurgence of your sickness, or a side-effect of your medication?” 

“No,” he said after a pause. Goddess, it felt weird to have a tongue. 

“Why did you break Hilda’s window?” They were leaving the room, and in some sort of hallway.

“There is...danger, nearby,” he said, realizing that the very sounds which had indicated such before had now vanished. 

The purple-haired one blinked. “Ah, you mean the movie? I didn’t know you thought it so realistic!” He lowered Dimitri onto what seemed to be a long chair, a bench almost, but remained standing. “Shall I get you some water?” 

Dimitri leaned over the edge to see the blue and pink-haired humans talking by the room he had just come from. “I...am not thirsty.” His host seemed sufficiently hydrated. 

“Are you sure? What is with your sudden change in speech? You’re not feeling dizzy, are you?” 

Crap, they’d noticed. He’d have to step it up. “No, I do not feel any sort of dizziness. Perhaps...perhaps water would do me some good,” he said, attempting to placate the purple-haired human.

He lifted a brow, but nodded. “Alright, I’ll get you some.” 

When he turned around, Dimitri tried letting his body relax. He was not off to a good start...one of his hands was useless from the bandaging, even though it would be healed in just a few hours, and the humans were already suspicious of him. And that was only accounting for his current problems; there were worse issues to deal with. Where were Sylvain and Felix? What about the location of his target? What had become of his ship, and what had attacked him in space? That crystal which should guide him to his target--at least, he hoped it would--had been in his ship, and where was that now?

The purple-haired human returned to him, carrying a glass filled with water. Dimitri thanked him as he knew humans should and sipped from it--it had a very vague taste of chemicals which he abhorred. After a few swallows he placed it down, disliking the feeling of something cold sloshing about within him. 

The purple-haired human frowned and passed behind him, and he suddenly felt something lowering on top of him. Dimitri hissed and jerked around to see the purple-haired human staring at him like he was some kind of beast, a large piece of fabric held in their hands. Ah...they were just trying to place a...blanket, on him. He relaxed and straightened back up, letting the other human cover him with the fabric. 

Then, he became aware of a smell. It was--how should he put it?--desirable to him. His host was, indeed, a little hungry, and the smell was causing him to salivate, an indicator that the body was ready to eat. He raised his head to look at the other human. 

“What is that smell?” He asked, meeting their eyes like he knew he should. “It brings about hunger.”

The purple-haired one raised a brow. “Do you mean...the...pizza?” He asked, looking to a box on the table before them. 

Dimitri cocked his head. “Pizza?”

“Yes, Claude, the pizza.” 

“Pizza.” Dimitri sniffed the air again, trying to track where the scent was coming from--yes, it was the box. He poked it, found that it had a lid, and lifted it. 

Inside were several triangles, all attached to each other to form a partial crescent. The smell was absolutely divine--Dimitri couldn’t help but grab one triangle, grateful that the lid seemed to hold itself up, and bite it. Having teeth was foreign to him, so he took a small bite and swallowed it whole.

The flavor was better than anything he’d ever eaten in his life. The purple-haired human let out a surprised gasp as he wolfed down the pizza, not even bothering to chew. But as he ate, he realized that the scratchiness of the pizza hurt his throat. Dimitri frowned and pulled back, observing what was left of the triangle. It was made of a doughy base, with a red layer on top of that dough, and something soft and malleable on top. Thinking fast, he pulled the soft substance off and dropped it into his mouth. 

There! That was it! It was that substance which smelled so good, tasted so good! He immediately swallowed it down and set to removing the substance from the other triangles, as the purple-haired human watched in horror. 

\-----------

“Alright, we’re done cleaning the bathroom,” Hilda said as she walked down the hall, shaking her hands to dry them. “Marianne says he’s probably acting weird because of medication. Honestly, Claude, it’s so rude of you to--what is he doing?”

“Eating all the cheese off your pizza, apparently,” Lorenz replied as he watched Claude swallow down another lump of the stuff. 

Hilda scowled. “Claude! What is it, mess with our fun night?! Pizza is no good without cheese!”

Claude swallowed hard and looked at her with strangely curious eyes. “Cheese? That is what this substance is called?”

“Yes, Claude, cheese! What, have you forgotten how to act tonight?”

But Claude did not seem to notice her anger. “Cheese...it is absolutely divine! Tell me, how do we get more of this cheese?”

“We? No, I am not paying for more pizza just so you can eat all the cheese off of it!” Hilda crossed her arms. “Ugh, what’s gotten into you?”

Claude froze, as if she’d asked him to assassinate his own mother. “I...I must go now!” He said, standing up so fast that he almost fell once more. He had to support himself on the coffee table as he took a step forward, wobbly as a newborn. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Claude?” Lorenz asked him as he headed for the door, ignoring his overnight bag. “Oh, you’re forgetting your bag!” 

“I’m fine,” Claude said in a voice that sounded too blank to be fine. “I’m healthy.” And before Hilda or Lorenz could protest him leaving, he’d opened the door and vanished.


	3. Bernadetta + Sylvain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta wakes up to find out she's not alone.

She was dead. She was sure she was dead. Bernadetta had no idea what else she could be. Damned for being born and killed for her stupidity, she must be in hell.

Though, hell looked a lot like her room. The floorboards were still dark wood, with a circular purple rug over them. The walls still had posters of her favorite band. Her multi-purpose table still sat in the corner covered in painting supplies, with the sewing project she’d started last week sitting unfinished upon it. Beneath her was a perfect replica of her bed with its purple sheets and flytrap patterned duvet, and next to it stood her dresser, open to her shirt drawer. Even her closet and it’s stash of food, enough to last her three months if she only ate cup ramen, was present. 

So then why couldn’t she move? She was sitting cross-legged upon her bed, staring at her laptop, frozen in place. It was open to an article on “Recent Meteorites” by the Fodlan Lark. 

She didn’t remember opening her laptop or looking for the article. In fact she didn’t think her last memory was in her room, either—it was out on her land, walking home after she’d finished her painting. She remembered seeing a shooting star, hearing a crash, and heading home…

“So you’re awake!” 

The sudden voice would’ve made her scream and jump if she could’ve moved, but her body was frozen. Instead, her eyes widened and her lips twitched. 

Who was there?! Had someone broken in?! Why couldn’t she move or speak?!

“Oh, sorry about that.” It sounded masculine, though rather young and relaxed. “Here, I’ll give your control back.”

Her body could suddenly move again, and she immediately leaped up and whirled around. 

“Who’s there! What’s your motive? How’d you get in!” She frantically searched for any signs of intrusion, or of anyone hiding behind furniture. 

“Woah, woah! Calm down, I’m not gonna cause you any trouble. Ha, you’re just as jumpy as when we first met!” 

It’s response did nothing to quell her fears. When they first met? What did that mean! And this voice...where was it’s origin? It sounded so close, like it was in her head!

“Alright, I can tell from your current hormonal levels that you’re not feeling very safe, so allow me to alleviate your fears.” Her body suddenly moved against her will to perform a small bow. “I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier of the Vexins, and your new temporary partner. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bernadetta von Varley.” 

“How—how do you know my name?” She jerked up, immediately hugging herself. “How did you do that! What do you mean partner?! Are you controlling me? Uwaaah, I don’t want to be a puppet!!”

“Yeesh, calm down, you’re gonna be fine.” Her arms began to move of their own accord, rubbing up and down and doing nothing to make her feel better. She glanced at the mirror on the wall--feeling her arms move without her control was one thing, but seeing them just made her feel even worse. “Allow me to explain, will ya? Come on, sit down for a moment and get comfy, this might take a while.” 

“But—but I can’t calm down if I don’t know your motive is! Or where you are! How’d you even get in my room?” She had a sinking feeling as she realized there was no place for Sylvain to hide in her room.

“Simple, I walked right in! It was pretty easy, since all your servants thought I was you. I guess I should let you know right now, there’s no use in searching for me. I’m inside you, so unless you can remove your endoskeleton like a Croaxer, chances are you won’t be able to find me.”

She blinked, her whole body trembling. “In. Inside me. You’re inside me.” And then she screamed and flailed her arms. “EWWW! That’s disgusting! Get out of me! I don’t want anyone inside me! That’s my personal space!”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Sylvain said nonchalantly, completely ignoring her panicking state. “My job isn’t the cleanest or the most pleasant, and there’s a lot of controversy based around dubious consent. It’s not like we can really ask though, since who’s going to say yes to a parasite? Well, there was that ONE chick, but she had a fetish, and—“

“Whatareyougoingonabout!” Bernadetta shrieked, plugging her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. “This doesn’t help anything!”

“Your panicking doesn’t either,” he retorted, then sighed. “Alright, I hate doing this, but I’m going to have to force you to calm down. It’s okay, just take deep breaths and don’t struggle and you’ll be fine.” 

All of a sudden her arms went limp, her legs locked into place, and her whole body went stiff. Her eyes fell open against her will. It was as if she’d been converted into a mannequin. Bernadetta hadn’t even been given time to protest, and her words built in her throat as a scream she couldn’t emit. Her breathing quickened it’s pace.

“Hey, what did I say about breathing? I hate seeing pretty girls like you freak out so much, the stress is terrible for your skin! Plus, your oxygen intake isn’t sufficient right now—please try to slow your breathing!”

She wanted to scream. This being held in place, forced to obey the command of a male she couldn’t see who had complete power over her—it reminded her of her father. Her childhood. The long days spent in a chair, crying and begging to be let go until she was so broken she stopped. So broken that she couldn’t go outside. So broken that her voice was gone and her fear was the only thing keeping her alive. Her eyes began to water with tears.

The hold on her limbs suddenly released, and she nearly fell over. Her legs wobbled as she hugged herself again, then turned to her bed and threw herself upon it, hugging her favorite giant teddy bear to her chest. Her breathing had slowed, but in its place came tears. 

“By the goddess…” Sylvain sounded much quieter. “I didn’t know, I’m so sorry…”

She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. “Please stop talking, I need my alone time. Please…”

She was met with silence. Even so, she didn’t feel truly alone. There were eyes upon on--or rather, in her--that would observe her every move and make judgements about them. Locked away in her room, she had the walls to keep her safe from prying eyes and judgements, but now those walls were useless. She would never have her privacy again. 

“...so...that guy in your memory, who is he?” She heard Sylvain quietly ask, and hugged her teddy bear tighter. 

“He’s...he’s my father,” she sniffed. The fact that Sylvain was reading her thoughts was disturbing to her, but this whole situation was disturbing, so she let it drop. “He wanted me to be a perfect...a perfect wife, because I was his only daughter. And daughters...daughters aren’t good for anything but marriage.” She wiped her nose on her arm and pressed her face harder into her bear. 

“Ah. So he’s a useless, conniving, sexist, no good--” She felt a flair of anger rising within her as Sylvain’s voice grew louder, but both quickly died down. “Er...he’s a jerk, I’m getting. An absolute jerk.”

She nodded. “And now that I’m old and unappealing to any suitor, he...he stopped caring about me. He won’t even talk to me anymore.”

“Does he live here?”

“Yeah...why?”

“Weeeeeeell….I guess I should tell you a few things, if you feel you can handle them.” 

“I...I don’t know. What are they about?” She looked up, as if expecting to see him sitting beside her. 

“So...well I’m sure you noticed how I could control your body--don’t worry, I won’t do it again without your permission. But, well, thing is, we met about a week ago. And I’ve been controlling you ever since.”

She felt cold. “I’ve been out for a week? But-but I’ve got my plants! And my father will be angry that I haven’t been meeting with Ferdinand! And the maids will yell at me for missing breakfast! And--”

“Don’t worry, I handled all of them. They thought I--well, you--were acting weird, but they let it go. Yes, even the plants, Earth has a lot of strange flora...but I could sense you held a good amount of positive emotions towards them, so I researched what those weird plants liked and gave them the required fluids.”

Bernadetta sniffled. “Really? You...you took care of all of it for me?”

“Yeah!” She felt some kind of warmth...like a smile in the back of your mind. “Really, it was good practice for blending in with humans, though I’ve no idea who this ‘Ferdinand’ person is. But anyways, I do distinctively recall seeing your father’s specific face. And I might not have known he was important, so when he approached me and said that you were ‘being a useless daughter’ and ‘doing nothing but impeding the future of this land’...I may or may not have ‘decked him’ as you humans might say.”

Bernadetta froze. “You...you punched my father?”

“Yeah. He’s been walking around with massive bruising around his eye and hasn’t spoken to me, or you for that matter, since.”

She felt a rush of fear at the prospect of punishment, but at Sylvain’s comment, it melted away. Her father was avoiding her? Was he afraid of her? And then she couldn’t help but laugh, because she was so short and considered so feeble, and here she had apparently just hit her father so badly that he had a black eye!

“You’re bold,” she laughed, and gave her teddy bear a scratch on its ear. “I’m amazed he didn’t just banish you from the estate! Oh no, wait, what if he does!?”

“If he does, we can just hop in my ship and fly away,” Sylvain said dismissively. “Oh yeah, speaking of my ship, I’ve got some more important information for you. Do you think you’ll be okay with listening, orrr...do you want me to knock you out again and let you wake up when this is all over?”

“Wait, you can just knock me out whenever you feel like it? That’s not fair! How am I supposed to feel safe if you have complete power over me at all times!” She pouted. 

“I...well, I’m perfectly happy letting you have all the control! It’s just that I’m on a mission, Bernadetta. And...I don’t know if you’d be up to it, seeing how jumpy you are.”

“Hey! I am not jumpy!I’m just...fast to flee!” She crossed her arms, then let out a sigh. “All right, I am jumpy...but don’t bully me about it!”

“I had no intention to.” Against her will, she winked. “Besides, girls who are a bit jumpy are pretty cute, like the delicate and beautiful...deer of the forest,” he said with a bit of uncertainty, as if he’d never seen a deer in his life. She realized that it was likely he hadn’t. “But you see, I don’t want to be forcing a delicate and beautiful woman like yourself into the life-threatening situations that my mission is going to require.”

She jolted up. “Life-threatening?! What’s so important that you have to throw me into a life-threatening situation!”

“Uh...it’s not important. Besides, I’m going to make you an offer that’ll benefit us both, and then I’ll be outta your hair. Ready to hear it?”

“Not important? You’re telling me what literally threatens my life is not important?” She groaned and sat against her headboard. “Ugh...fine. Tell me this offer.”

“Alright! So, I feel I should let you know that this part of me that’s in you isn’t actually my real body. Without getting into anything specific or boring you with anatomy lessons, I had to inject a small portion of myself into you to ensure I wouldn’t bleed to death. And I might as well say it--I wasn’t supposed to land here in Fodlan. Something attacked me, and right now, I’m desperate.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke. “So you’re...are you on the run from some kind of space bounty hunter? Are you a secret service alien? Wait, you’re--oh, nevermind, it’s worn off.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Afraid I’ve got no known bounty hunters after me, and I’m not a secret service alien. I’m merely an observer of the Earth, and my mission is to seek out a specific human who may or may not have some ties with your governments. But my current situation has blown a massive hole in my mission, and now I’m trapped inside of you unless I can find a more suitable host.”

“So, wait,” she said, raising a brow. “Why are you ‘trapped’ inside of me? Where is your real body, and how does being inside of me prevent it from dying?”

“The short version is that my real body is hibernating and dying a lot slower than if it was awake. If I hadn’t gone into slumber, I would’ve died. But if I return to it now, without a throwaway host, I’ll die before I even properly extricate myself from my ship.”

“Throwaway host!?” She nearly jumped. “You-you’re not going to kill or eat me, are you?”

“I don’t intend to! But I need someone I can. If my body dies, I’ll be trapped inside of you forever.”

She swallowed, hard. “O-oh.”

“So...my plan is that you transfer me into someone you’re okay with...losing.” He seemed wary of saying that word, even with how watered down it was.

“Oh.” He was asking her to kill someone. “But wait, what do you mean ‘transfer’?” She asked. 

“My current form is ready to be extracted at will, pretty much. All you have to do is give me a signal and make contact long enough for me to burrow into someone else. The neck is preferred, but if you just have enough time to get me under their skin, I should be fine.”

“Make contact!?” Her worst nightmare! “Like hugging? Or kissing? Or worse!”

“Uh...sure, whatever you want. Just skin to skin contact, really, and prolonged enough that I can move to the spot.”

She made a face. “Gross! Are you just going to pop out of me like a Surinam Toad?”

“What is--”

Before he could finish his question, a knock sounded from Bernadetta’s door. She flinched at the sound and slowly got off her bed, knowing that if she didn’t answer the door the maids would only knock harder. Still, she didn’t open it. 

“Who’s there?” She asked, noticing that Sylvain had gone quiet. 

“Miss Varley, the new Duke Aegir humbly requests your presence downstairs. He states it is about Empire bus--”

Before she could even finish Bernadetta threw her head back and moaned. “Of all people, why him?”

“Miss...Miss Varley, I am in no position to speak over what is your well-being, but Duke Aegir is a very kind young man, and I am sure he has your best interests at heart! It would be better not to keep him waiting.” And before she could protest, she heard the maid step away. 

She pouted. “‘Has my best interests at heart’, ha! He just wants to marry me since I’m the only girl for miles.” 

“Want me to punch him, too?” Sylvain offered, almost excitedly. 

“No...maybe,” she responded, wiping her eyes and stepping over to her mirror to ensure she was presentable. Nope, not at all--she was still in her purple pajamas, her eyes were still red, and her nose was dripping. She definitely needed to change...but the fact that Sylvain was watching…

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll close my eyes if you need to change. I’m not really into forcing you humans out of your shells.” 

“Thanks, Sylvain.” She didn’t really know how to describe it, but it felt as if...well, as if something in her mind had just shut off. Something that she hadn’t even known was there, and didn’t exactly feel like a major loss. 

Putting it aside, she moved to her dresser and quickly searched for a presentable shirt. She paused as she lifted up a pink one, glancing out her window. The sun was beaming down, and it was summer...why not wear a dress? Her closet held many dresses, their skirts ending just above the knees, and she considered each before deciding upon a purple and gold one. The main body was purple, but it had a gold belt and a gold trim, and the short but puffy sleeves seemed to glow in the sunbeams. 

Smiling to herself, she tied the belt and quickly cleaned up her face with a baby wipe. It was better than nothing, and she smelled a bit nicer now. Finally, she straightened her posture and felt her back crack, gaining a startled shout from Sylvain. Then she slipped on her shoes and, taking a deep breath, opened her door. 

There was no one in the T shaped hallway. She stepped out and closed the door behind her, locking it with the key she always kept on her, and walked down the hall, turning left instead of right to descend down a massive staircase. Over the railing, she could see the first floor and the doors of her mansion, and standing on the giant rug, checking his phone, was him. Ferdinand. 

She didn’t hate Ferdinand, but the pressure was on for her to marry him, even if he himself never pressed her about the issue and seemed to merely enjoy taking her to horseback rides, garden displays, and tea parties. It was just that pressure to wed, that pressure to fall in love with him, made her want to be around him even less. It wasn’t his fault, and yet, she couldn’t help letting herself target him as the problem. 

When she began to descend the stairs, he immediately glanced up, his friendly orange eyes meeting hers. A smile spread across his face and he waved, sliding his phone into his pocket as he watched her. Despite the heat he was wearing a long-sleeved red shirt, gloves, and gray riding pants along with dark riding boots--ever the horse lover, Ferdinand was almost never unprepared for a ride. His long orange hair had been tied up with a bow in a wavy ponytail. Around his waist was a belt and sheath, which she knew contained a real sword--it was for show, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he always concealed an actual blade on his person. 

She stepped off the staircase and was met with a bow. “Bernadetta! It’s wonderful to see you today,” he chirped, keeping that bright smile on his face. 

“It’s...nice, to see you too,” she gritted out, unable to form a similar expression with her own face. Behind her eyes, she could feel Sylvain sizing him up. “So...why are you here? You said it was ‘Empire business’? Oh no, you’re not gonna propose to me are you?! I’m not ready to be married!” 

Ferdinand raised a brow. “Why would I be proposing? Well, putting that aside, yes, I am here on ‘Empire business’. Haven’t you gotten my emails?”

“Uh…” Crap! Crap crap crap! She hadn’t checked her laptop or her email or her social media, they were probably all blown up with notifications and responsibilities she would have to get to and it was all Sylvain’s fault! What could she say? That she was a failure of a noble and couldn’t even access her own email!?

“Of course I have!” The words escaped her and she realized immediately it wasn’t herself saying it. “If I do recall, you sent me a message exactly six days ago asking about my health. It was cute and rather charming of you, but you didn’t have to send it four more times in the same amount of days,” Sylvain sassed, straightening her body and placing one hand on her hip. “Were you really that riled up about one little meteor?”

Ferdinand blinked in surprise at her sudden attitude change. “Bernadetta? I...well, our readings indicated that it fell onto your lands, and I was worried that the shockwaves may have hurt you! And when you didn’t respond, I was sure something had happened! Forgive me for causing you such irritation.”

Her face smirked and she waved a hand. “You can get my forgiveness if you’ll treat me to lunch, cutie.” 

Internally, she screamed. 

Ferdinand’s eyes went wide, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. “Wh-what? Bernadetta, are you asking me out?”

“No!” She wailed, taking back the reins of control over her own body. “I--I um...I...I was just kidding! Tell me what this official ‘Empire business’ is! Please!” There was a blush settling over her face as well, and she cringed back to avoid looking interested in him at all. 

“Oh, I...uh...right.” Ferdinand looked very confused. “Are you feeling alright, Ber--”

“Never better! Now tell me!”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in surrender. “Edelgard has requested that we retrieve the meteor, though she hasn’t given specific reasons as to why. And...she sent me several soldiers to retrieve it as well, so…” his voice lowered to a whisper, “between you and me, I believe there’s something not quite right about it.”

“Not right? What could be wrong about a stupid rock?” And then she realized. A meteor. Meteors were shooting stars. And what ‘shooting star’ had hit her lands a week earlier?

She felt cold, and there was an echo of the feeling within her, felt by a being that was not her. They were searching for Sylvain’s ship. And if they found his ship, they’d realize that an alien had landed near her home and question her, quarantine her, maybe even test her for contamination. It would only be a matter of time before they found out Sylvain had infected her. 

And then she remembered: Sylvain’s body was still in his ship. He had told her it was in hibernation, but would die soon if she couldn’t give him a new host. If she let Ferdinand bring that ship and alien back to Edelgard, she’d never be rid of Sylvain!

Harsh, she heard his voice echo in her head, but even he knew it to be true. They couldn’t let Ferdinand find that ship. 

“I’m not sure,” Ferdinand shrugged, “but Edelgard wants it. Did you happen to see where it landed?”

“What? No, nope! I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Bernadetta laughed nervously. “It’s been so boring around here all week, and you know I’m always in my room, so I haven’t seen a single thing, and neither have any of the servants, so whydon’tyoujusttell EdelgardthatthiswasalluselessandIcangobacktomyroom?”

Ferdinand frowned and knit his brows. “But...your maid who greeted me stated that they saw a light a week ago, and that since then, you’ve lost two horses…”

“R-really?” She stammered, feeling the sweat starting to build. “First I’ve heard of it!”

“Hm.” He looked skeptical. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?” At her insistent nodding, he sighed. “Well, if you say so...would you accompany me in searching for the meteor then, Bernadetta? No worries, we’ll be away from the soldiers, and I’m sure the fresh air will help you in remembering!” He gave her a warm smile.

She resisted a groan as her shoulders slumped. There was no getting out of something Ferdinand proposed the moment he put that stupid grin on his face. “Fine...but I want to be left alone for most of it!”

“Deal.” Ferdinand reached out to take her hand, but when she held her own back, he let it drop. “Well, come then! Let us take in the beauty of the evening, shall we?”

When he threw open the double doors, she was greeted by the sight of at least twelve Imperial soldiers, clad in red bulletproof vests and carrying assault rifles. The sight was so frightening she nearly fainted on the spot and was only saved by Sylvain locking her knees into place. Despite the serious faces they all maintained, Ferdinand disregarded the tone of the situation and kept his grin up as he faced them. 

“Varley territory is rather large, but the meteor Edelgard described should have made quite a noticeable crater, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate. Everyone, let us set off from the mansion. Bernadetta and I shall travel north, while I expect three other groups to travel east, west, and south. Maintain communications as much as possible, and return here within three hours if possible.” He commanded the men as if he were a general, all with a smile on his face. “All right, let us set out.” 

They nodded before splitting into three groups, four to each, and travelling in their separate directions. Ferdinand turned to Bernadetta and beamed, the sunlight almost looking like a halo around him. 

“So, Bernadetta, shall we head off?”

\-------

They walked for what must have been an hour and found nothing. The sun had been setting when they first set off, and now it was nighttime. Normally she would’ve used the new night as an excuse to head home, but Ferdinand had smartly packed a small LED flashlight which could illuminate even better than their phones. In addition to his thinking ahead, the moon was illuminating the sky quite well, and they both could see the clear, treeless lands around them without much difficulty. 

That didn’t prevent Bernadetta from misleading them, though. She and Sylvain had come to a mutual understanding without even a word spoken, and they intended to carry it through. At every rock, cool bug, or new plant, she would stop and observe it as if it meant the world to her, and Ferdinand was always too nice to call her out too much for it. It was all to slow him down, and instead he took the worst action he could in their situation: he would give her her space, and go searching on his own! 

“Should I break his neck?” Sylvain offered as she jerked up from the common Nightbloom she’d been pretending to care about. “Maybe we can frame it as an accident?”

“No!” She yelled, and then immediately quieted down. Ferdinand whipped around at her voice, looking concerned, and she waved him off. “I can’t just kill him!” She whispered. 

“Well...how about we misguide him?” 

“Won’t work, he’s got a compass and he does horseback riding with my dad every other weekend.” She rolled her eyes. “He knows my lands better than I do.”

“Um...oh! How about you transfer me into him?”

Her eyes widened. “But...but didn’t you say you’d need a throwaway host for that? I don’t want to kill him, he’s not a bad person, he’s just…” She trailed off.

Ferdinand by now had turned around and was watching her, head cocked to one side. She ran after him, just to alleviate his potential concerns. When she caught up to him, he sighed. 

“You’re behaving strangely, Bernadetta. Why were you talking to yourself back there?”

A blush rose to her cheeks. “Hey! No eavesdropping! Maybe I was telling myself some jokes to make this stupid search better!” 

“Ah--my apologies. I was just concerned that you were feeling lonely. If this is too hard on you, you can--”

Before he could say the words she so longed to hear, his phone rang. Ferdinand raised a finger to indicate one moment and accepted the call, placing it to his ear. “Hello, this is Ferdinand von--”

His eyes went wide and he practically jerked the device away from his ear. Even though it wasn’t on speaker, Bernadetta could hear it as well: a harsh growling was coming from the phone, followed by a dozen sickening slices and the sound of gunfire. They both heard something squish, crack. Distantly, a scream rose and was cut off in the same moment. 

The growling stopped for a moment. Ferdinand raised the phone a little higher, put it on speaker to hear it better, and just as he did, an inhuman roar shattered the air. Bernadetta yelped and jumped back, fear clawing at her chest and pounding away at her heart. She dropped right into a crouched position, shielding her head and neck as if it would save her from whatever they’d heard. Ferdinand immediately ended the call, his eyes wide as he stared in shock at the device in his hand. 

Neither of them spoke. Their fast breaths, their pounding hearts, and their heightened awareness of just how exposed they were on these open plains spoke for them. Finally Ferdinand raised his head and swallowed hard. But instead of saying anything to her, he merely raised his phone again and typed in another number. 

They both listened to painful silence as it rang, never to be answered. He tried again, then tried another number. No responses. Judging from how pale his face was when he finally met her eyes, she knew right away that he’d lost contact with the guards on her property. 

He finally approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Bernadetta...stay close to me. We’re going back.”

She looked up at him, already scanning the horizon for threats. With a thick swallow she stood and moved closer to him, following his gaze around the area to ensure there wasn’t anything approaching them. Ferdinand moved one hand to his sword--display as it was, he did know how to wield it. But who was to say a sword would protect against something a gun couldn’t?

They began to retrace their steps, heading back to the Varley mansion, and this time she didn’t try to cause any interruptions. Though before he had given her space, Ferdinand now never let her more than a foot from his side, though he didn’t offer to hold her hand. It was about halfway there, however, when the adrenaline and the fear had begun to grow weary from lack of any threat, that Bernadetta froze. Alongside her, Ferdinand stopped as well, quickly looking about for any kind of threat. 

Something was in the air, some kind of scent. It was strangely familiar to her, like smelling an old blanket from one’s childhood. But perhaps strangest of all was the fact that she had never smelled anything like it in her entire life. And yet she knew it, and her legs would not let her continue. 

“I recognize this…” she heard Sylvain whisper in her mind. Before she could stop herself her body was sniffing the air, turning its head. “He’s here,” her body said aloud.

“He?” Ferdinand asked. “Who’s ‘he’?”

But whatever else he said, she didn’t hear, for her legs were carrying her in the opposite direction, back to the north of her territory, and worse, to where Sylvain’s ship had crashed. Ferdinand let out a yell, calling her name before running after her. 

“Sylvain!” She almost screamed, already running out of breath. “Where--what are you doing?”

“He’s here! I smell him! He survived!”

“Who did?”

“Felix!”

She had no idea who this Felix fellow was, but her answer would come soon enough. For the speed at which she ran was far greater than her body would’ve ever permitted, aided by the Vexin within her. At his top speed Ferdinand couldn’t match her, and was forced to stop and gasp while his partner became a dot on the horizon. 

She didn’t know for how long she had run when her legs suddenly jerked to a stop. The pain in her chest hit her all at once and she doubled over, gasping for breath and coughing at the sudden stitches in her side. Her vision swam, and the painful prick of a dry throat kept her from saying anything to the Vexin controlling her. 

Even so, she felt the strong urge to lift her head. Looking up, a familiar sight met her: the crater she had stumbled upon just a week before. At the center of it, still partially drilled into the earth, was the drill-like black ship she had seen. The holes in it were pits of darkness now, and the broken stilts gleamed like silver in the moonlight. 

But it wasn’t the ship that caught her attention. She recognized something in the largest hole, torn in the side: orange tentacles, still dangling forth. Sylvain hadn’t been lying when he said he was desperate. And besides those tentacles was a humanoid figure, desperately grasping at them and chirping in a high pitched tone. 

Her heart was pounding in her chest at the sight, and she tried her best to resist screaming. In the back of her mind, however, something was pulling her forward, towards the alien creature, and she resisted it with all she had. The mental tug-of-war manifested in her body as well, her arms grabbing the dirt and trying to pull herself forward as her legs, still bent on her knees, tried to find purchase in the ground and pull her back. 

“Wait! Bernadetta!” She heard Sylvain screaming in her mind. “Stop fighting me, that’s Felix! He’s my partner, he won’t hurt you!” 

But her instincts were screaming otherwise, and as she watched the humanoid shape suddenly froze, turning its helmeted head right in her direction. 

A scream burst forth from her and she tore control back from Sylvain, jumping to her feet and breaking into a run in the opposite direction. She saw a familiar speck of light on the horizon, but before she could even wave her arms for help a sudden force slammed into her back, pinning her to the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs and pain exploded in her chest as she collided with hard dirt. 

The alien flipped her over, standing over her like a lion over its prey. She stared fearfully into its reflective helmet, saw her own tear-filled eyes staring back at her. The smell she had picked up before was overwhelming. 

From beneath the helmet suddenly unfurled two forked tendrils, twisting their way towards her. She shrieked and tried to flail back, but the one ‘arms’ of the creature, which had previously held it above her, suddenly unfurled and wrapped around her neck, squeezing tightly as it stood straight and carried her with it. Holding her in place, it brought her close to its head, and the tendrils plunged into her neck. 

The pain vanished as soon as it had come, replaced with dizziness. The entire world dropped away. She felt as if she was falling eternally in a pit of darkness, the view from her eyes merely a distant wispy patch of green and blue. A chattering buzzed around her in a language she couldn’t understand. As her vision began to cloud with blackness, the alien suddenly released her, the tendrils jerking her back to reality as they exited. 

Her legs gave out from under her before the alien had even dropped her, and she crumpled onto the ground. Her entire body was limp, but she was fully conscious and could take in the alien before. It was humanoid in shape and darkly colored, blending with the night. It had two arms, one of them branching off into many individual tiny tentacles, while the other ended in a scythe. Over what would have been its chest it had what looked like a breastplate, shiny and black like a beetle’s shell and just as reflective as the helmet covering its entire head.

It looked like thousands, no, millions of tentacles made up this creature, all coiled together to form one shape. She watched it observe her, its other ‘arm’ coiling into another scythe. Was this a Vexin?

And then a sudden thought struck her: Ferdinand. Where was he? She struggled to turn her head, to look in the last direction she’d seen him in. 

Not that she needed to, because the creature looming over her suddenly whipped its head to the side and lowered itself, entering a battle position. From nearby, she heard Ferdinand scream in what could have only been fear. She wanted to scream, too, and tell him to run--why wasn’t Sylvain speaking to her, reassuring her, HELPING her--but her mouth wouldn’t work. 

And then the creature lunged.


	4. A Discovery is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude deals with the aftermath of the night before, while Edelgard and Hubert scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay with posting this one! can i just say thank you to everyone who is commenting on every chapter and leaving me kudos? you guys who keep coming back really give me the motivation to keep working on this! and its getting so long too...oof. i would like to apologize, though, for never responding to comments. a lot of you people look so cool! it's just i dont want to artificially inflate the number of comments on this fic, if that makes sense. though i think i might as well put that silliness aside, since you all are so nice! anyways, this chapter might not have too much plot, but it should pick up from here.

The halls of Enbarr’s palace were silent. The guards had just finished swapping posts, and the maids were all busy at work cleaning the many rooms on each floor. They all made sure to avoid the one door which was closed, made of heavy oak and carved with the insignia of the twin-headed eagle. 

Within her room Edelgard was awaiting the return of her vassal, Hubert. She had dispatched him, alongside twelve of her guards, the day before, with the express purpose of investigating the “meteor” which had fallen onto Varley land. But she knew better than to believe it was just a space rock, especially after what Hubert and Petra had reported to her. 

Petra was out on a mission at present, running as fast as her legs would carry her towards the academy of Garreg Mach. The second “meteor” had landed near it, placing all of them on edge. With what lurked beneath the centuries old building, she couldn’t take any chances on their enemies nearing it. She didn’t expect to see Petra back for another week. 

Hubert, however, was always swift in his returns--being away from her side for too long filled him with anxiety. It was supposed to be a one-day mission at best. He had even consented to Ferdinand joining him: the two of them had been getting along for so long, the prospect of recruiting the otherwise oblivious noble to their side had finally arisen. It was agreed that if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, they would provide him the offer; if he refused to accept their terms, all they could do would be to silence him. 

But she had heard nothing, and fear blossomed anew in her chest. Edelgard took a deep breath and forced it down, refusing to let it dent her resolve. No, Hubert would return, even if it killed him. She crossed her room and looked out her window, down at the grounds below and the guards passing by on the catwalks. Almost all of them were oblivious to what went on underground the castle, for if they weren’t, they’d surely flee. 

Her head jerked up at a sudden noise, like the skittering of a sopping wet beetle. She recognized it immediately, coming from the hall, as it evened out into the proper footsteps of a human being. Before he could even knock, she was at the door. 

Hubert looked surprised at her suddenly throwing the heavy oak open, his gloved hand just raised to tap against it. “Lady Edelgard, I--”

Before he could bow to her and put on his formal act she dragged him into her room and slammed the door shut. As she scanned his face, she realized there was blood by the corner of his lips. 

“Tell me what happened,” she demanded, crossing her arms. “You’ve got blood on your face, and I heard you skittering. It’s a miracle none of the maids caught you.”

Hubert’s surprise vanished, replaced by his calm and sinister mask. “My deepest apologies for causing you disturbance, Lady Edelgard. There was a rat in the hall, heading to your room. I took care of it.” His tongue flicked out to lick the blood away. 

“I...see. Thank you. Now please, tell me of what happened on this mission. Where is Ferdinand? And...what of the guards I sent with you?”

Hubert frowned. “I’m afraid our fears have come true. The “meteor” was a Vexin ship, and it was empty when I found it. As for the guards...we lost them due to the sudden appearance of the Death Knight.”

Her brows lowered. “Thales...he let that monster out right as we launched our expedition to find that Vexin. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Whether or not the Vexin has fallen into their hands, Lady Edelgard, is unknown. It likely escaped and infected some poor soul in the Varley household. The absence of a body, however, is troubling.”

It was Edelgard’s turn to wear a frown as she turned, looking back out the window at the sun, dipping low in the sky. “So...we cannot trust anyone within Varley territory, let alone in the Varley estate.” 

“I am afraid not. I was not able to determine the fate of Bernadetta or Ferdinand--suffice to say, whether they live or not, we must be suspicious of them. They may be infected.”

Edelgard closed her eyes and folded her arms. “It was a week ago that this Vexin fell to Fodlan...Hubert. I believe they may have been in that ship you reported.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Unlikely. The ship I attacked was fortified with Nabatean technology--this one was only Vexin. And I sent it spiralling into what should have been the ocean, so that damned parasite would drown for trying to harm you.” He spat the words like poison.

Her eyes rose to the stars above, just barely beginning to peek their heads out in the purple sky. “Then...there are three. Three Vexins, coming to Earth...just like ten years ago.” Her eyes widened, and she turned to meet Hubert’s gaze. “What do you think it means?”

“It’s likely that they’re trying to seize power covertly.” Hubert reached into his pocket, pulled out a notebook, and quickly flipped through it. “The political officials from ten years ago still reign today due to this flawed system we have; if three are infected, then it wouldn’t be unwise to bide their time before infecting three more. One Vexin for the Empire, one for the Alliance, and one for the Kingdom…”

“And they give us ten years between each infection, so our memory grows spotty. How long will it be before they control all officials within Fodlan?” She grit her teeth. “If Vexins conquer Fodlan, do you think it possible they’ll open the way for the Nabateans to return?”

Hubert hummed. “Perhaps you are thinking too far ahead, Lady Edelgard. We know that not all Vexins operate under the Nabateans...though I am curious as to their intentions for sending groups of three to assimilate into society.”

“No matter their intentions, we are still dealing with an invasion of humanity that the public is not even aware of.” She clenched a fist. “We cannot let these Vexins vanish as those previous three did, Hubert.”

He nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Lady Edelgard. But there is one problem.”

“And what would that be?”

“The Vexin ship I personally derailed with my own claws...may not have landed in the ocean. Our spies have reported some troubling details from Almyra: a “meteor” crashed there shortly after I sent that ship into Earth’s atmosphere, and the king was swift to eliminate any and all traces of it. In addition, there have been no other “meteor” sightings of note besides the two we already investigated.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So the Almyrans have discovered the truth of alien life, then.”

“Or their king has been infected. Regardless, this sours our relations with them all the more and raises the possibility of an invasion from Almyra. If the Vexins are working to throw this continent into chaos for Nabateans to slip in undetected, then an Almyran invasion would be perfect for such. You know they don’t value human life in the slightest.”

She almost laughed at his comment. “Hubert, you don’t value human life highly either. But...you’ve a point. We must convince the Alliance to strengthen their border control.” She nodded and walked past him to her desk, picking up her phone. “I will speak with Count Gloucester.”

“And what of Duke Riegan?”

At his comment she paused. “You know...he’s always been so evasive when it comes to uniting the Empire and Alliance. And his origins being bathed in mystery…”

“Shall I remove him?” Hubert offered, his voice taking on a dark tone. She caught his gaze for a moment and could already see his eyes flashing in their thousand colors, eager to break free from this form. 

“No,” she ordered. “It’s more likely that he’s just thinking of his own power. Hm...I’ll have to find a way to convince him there is more opportunity under the Empire.”

“And if more Vexins show?”

Her gaze turned cold. “Then we turn to Thales and begin the first stages of invasion preparation. As much as I hate working with him, his people know far more than we do about dealing with aliens.”

If the invasion plan was opened to the public, there would be no going back. She would announce the truth of alien life, with her specimens to prove it, and give Fodlan two options: annex into the Empire and join the cause to repel all alien threats, letting man truly reclaim the planet he lived upon...or perish. She checked her schedule, searching for her next visit with Claude--ah, a meeting at their old stomping grounds, Garreg Mach. Perhaps if she showed him the creatures living under it, she could convince him to annex the Alliance into the Empire. Then all she would have left would be the Kingdom. 

“What is our next course of action, Lady Edelgard?” Hubert bowed. “You know I am glad to eliminate anyone you request.”

“First and foremost, we must cover up what has happened in Varley territory, and then we must find that Vexin. I've been in contact with Petra, and her orders are to capture, if not kill, any Vexin she encounters. As for the potential of an infected within the Empire…if we poisoned the Varley water source with a toxin specific to Vexins, we could force them out of their host. Would you carry out such a mission, Hubert?”

He straightened up, grinning wickedly. “It’s my pleasure.”

\-------------------

The first thought Claude had when he awoke was, Where the hell am I?

It smelled of fish and salt. The breeze was cool and the sun was hot, beaming down directly onto his body. The ground beneath him was soft with grass, and the constant swish of water filled his ears. 

He opened his eyes and almost immediately closed them, for he was lying spread-eagle on his back and the sun was high in the sky. The back of his head was already throbbing, and the sunlight just made it worse. Turning over, he rubbed his eyelids and blinked the spots away from his vision. Then, he took in his surroundings. 

He was lying upon a small patch of grassy land next to a body of water. Barely ten feet away, the land ended in a dozen logs, placed vertically within rows and running the length of the ground, keeping at bay the churning waters beyond. As he looked around he noticed docks and boats nearby, with a local fisherman cleaning fish on one. He paid Claude no mind. 

This place must be Deirdru harbor. He remembered it well, having passed it several times on beach trips with Hilda. When he’d legally come into Fódlan, he had been received in this very same harbor. Glancing back, he saw the cobblestone streets (terrible for vehicles) and the distant storefronts of a boardwalk. People were walking to and fro, none of them paying any attention to him.

How had he gotten here? Last he remembered, he had arrived at Hilda’s, and they were waiting for pizza while selecting their movies for the night. Had they all gotten slammed somewhere during their marathon? That would explain the headache, which was still bothering him—even his eyes were hurting from it. It didn’t seem like something Hilda would permit, though, not now that they were grown. They had had parties in Garreg Mach that had gotten slightly illegal, none of which he could fully remember, but that was when they were all dumb kids. Since apparently when drunk he was a very lovey person who didn’t care anything for secrets, he’d sworn off alcohol years ago. And yet here he was, faced with the possibility that he’d broken those dumb vows. He really didn’t need a scandal breaking out about drug or alcohol involvement. 

At least he was fully clothed and no one was paying him much attention. Another thing he certainly didn’t need were embarrassing pictures circulating on social media (though he could bet that Hilda already had a dozen which she’d use to blackmail him later). Sucking in a breath, he pulled himself to his feet and checked his phone, trying to appear casual in some way. 

It was 12:34pm, and he had over 20 missed calls. His brows rose at such a high number--five from Hilda, twelve from Lorenz, one from Marianne, and two from his father. Oh no, that was not good, he could definitely expect to get yelled at later. But judging from the number his friends left, they probably were in similar situations, which gave him a bit of relief--something about doing a stupid thing with friends makes said stupid thing slightly less embarrassing. He figured he should call them back, just to let them know he was okay, and ask what had happened to them. And...it probably wouldn’t hurt to ask them for a ride, since the Riegan estate was over twenty miles away. 

He decided on Lorenz first, due to the high call number and the fact that, out of all his friends, Lorenz was the most prone to worrying. Selecting the most recent call, he placed the phone to his ear as it called Lorenz back. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but notice a low buzzing at the back of his mind, almost like something was vibrating or shifting inside of his skull. 

The buzzer stopped almost immediately, broken by a familiar voice calling his name. Even though Lorenz wasn’t present, Claude still put on one of his false grins, designed to placate. Force of habit. 

“Hey, Lorenz! That must’ve been some party last night, because I don’t remember any of it. You didn’t end up outside half naked and with no way of returning home, did you?”

He heard Lorenz mutter “oh, goddess”. “What? I’m guessing you had it better?”

“Claude, where are you?” 

“Deirdru harbor. Where are you?”

“Looking for you all over the city!” Lorenz snapped. “How did you end up in Deirdru harbor?”

“You tell me,” he shrugged. “I’m not kidding when I say I don’t remember anything from last night.”

For good reason.

“You don’t remember anything?” Lorenz said, but Claude barely heard him. He glanced around, looking for the owner of the voice he’d just heard, but there was no one listening in, no one even looking at him. And..why did he feel he’d heard that voice before?

“You were behaving so strangely last night!” Lorenz’s voice broke through his thoughts, taking on a scolding tone. “Why, you broke Hilda’s window and almost attacked me! And it was as if you had forgotten how to speak English! Not to mention...when did you get obsessed with cheese? And when you fled--”

“Woah, woah, slow down,” he said, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean by any of that? I don’t…” he trailed off.

There were bandages clinging to his left hand. Most had been removed, but bits and pieces still stuck to it. Claude opened it, flexed it, looked it over. There were no visible wounds. 

“You don’t remember any of it?” Lorenz answered for him, sounding worried. “Claude, that’s concerning. Is this a part of your sickness? You insisted last night that you were fine, but your movements were so jerky and strange, we couldn’t help but be concerned.”

“I don’t think ringworm makes you black out and develop an ‘obsession’ with cheese,” he replied, raising his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Honestly, I don’t really know what to say, none of this is familiar to me.” Should he tell Lorenz about the voice he heard? No, that would only make it worse. 

“Well...we can discuss it later. Stay where you are, I’ll come to you. I’ll see you in a few?”

“See you in a few,” Claude agreed, and hung up. So his suspicions of “partying too hard” were out the window, but in their place was something equally concerning. Strange behavior? Breaking windows? Developing a cheese obsession? They certainly weren’t side effects of the medication he’d been taking, and he knew from his research on ringworm that the fungus didn’t cause such symptoms even in extreme cases. 

Then there was the issue of that voice he had heard. Was he going senile at the ripe age of 23? Was he developing schizophrenia? Maybe he was just stressed out and losing his marbles. He did have a meeting with Edelgard the following day after all, and just the mention of her name was enough to make him uneasy. 

He tried to focus on the voice. He felt as if he had heard it before--yes, in the garden. It had said something about the stars watching them. And now, it had assured him that it was good he didn’t remember anything from last night. What could it be? 

As he thought about it, he was suddenly so aware of how his body was breathing, pulling air in, expanding his lungs, contracting them, letting air out. His chest, rising and falling with each breath. The sea air, and how fresh it smelled. At the back of his mind, another buzz started, died down, and his headache raged.

What in the hell was wrong with him? He raised a hand to his temple and tried rubbing it, closing his eyes to make the pain go away. Hearing voices, blacking out, behaving strangely...was he going insane?

No.

His heart skipped a beat. The voice had just answered his question--a question he hadn’t spoken but thought. A voice in his head, answering to his thoughts. 

The realization gripped his heart like an icy hand. He really was going insane. 

No, you’re not. 

Being unsafe within one’s own mind was a new fear entirely, one few will ever experience. Privacy is perhaps one of the most basic of human needs, and though it can be taken externally, internally, one’s mind should be the most private place in existence. The mind can be as dirty or as clean, as cruel or as kind as one wills it, and no other should ever know what really goes on within the depths of a human being. 

Knowing his mind was invaded brought about perhaps one of the greatest fears Claude had ever felt. He’d feared for his life before, plenty of times from both intentional and unintentional causes, and the best he could compare this fear to was that same terror rising within his chest, promising a future of nothingness if action wasn’t taken. 

He swallowed and forced it down, though it stewed like a live eel in his belly. Now that he knew the voice existed, that it was in his head and not outside, he had a few options. It was possible this was a mental illness, and he could receive treatment for that. In fact, that was most likely. What else could possibly explain a voice in his head? 

It was hard to describe, but it felt as if something within him was searching for words. But before it could find what it needed, he spotted a familiar car and abandoned his spot by the water, giving Lorenz a wave. 

He was permitted to sit in the back seat, since Hilda had called shotgun when they’d first set out. Marianne was absent; apparently she was working a double today despite it being the weekend, much to Hilda’s chagrin. They had brought his overnight bag, which he thanked them for and sat next to. 

“I am assuming you would like to be taken to the Riegan estate?” Lorenz asked, looking at him in the rear-view mirror. “Unless you’d like to help clean Hilda’s apartment.”

“And speaking of cleaning, Claude, you owe me,” Hilda turned back, placing one arm over her seat. “You left a delicate flower like me to clean up all those glass shards, and didn’t even say thank you! Also, you haven’t paid to fix my window yet!”

“Details, details,” Claude raised his hands and winked. His headache was beginning to fade, if only a little. “I’ll handle it Hilda, don’t worry. But before we do anything, could you both tell me what I did last night that resulted in me taking a nap at the harbor?” 

Both of them quieted down. Lorenz sighed and parked before turning in his seat to face Claude. Hilda wore a concerned frown, and quickly checked her phone to avoid meeting his gaze. 

“I’m assuming it was bad,” Claude said light-heartedly, trying to brighten the mood a bit. 

“Well...what you did in Hilda’s apartment was concerning enough. Shall I start from the beginning?” Lorenz asked, casting a glance at Hilda.

Claude nodded. Hilda gave a shrug. 

“Alright...about halfway into our first movie, you excused yourself to the bathroom, and promptly punched through Hilda’s window.” At this, Hilda frowned and gave Claude a look. “When we approached you to check for your safety, you were eerily silent, and your eyes were so...blank. To worsen it all, you seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Marianne bandaged your hand, but you didn’t show any signs of pain...and I can see now that you’ve torn your bandages off...how on earth?”

They were both staring at Claude’s hand, completely healed without any evidence of a scar. Claude shrugged. “I guess I’m just a fast healer?”

“I...that…” Lorenz floundered for a moment before continuing. “Af...after you were bandaged, I had to walk you to the couch to rest. You seemed to have no control of your legs, but you continuously insisted that your health was fine. When I placed a blanket upon you, you reacted as if I’d hit you. And then--” Hilda snickered, “--you seemed to develop an obsession with cheese.”

Even Claude couldn’t help but smile at that. The rest was concerning, but a sudden obsession with cheese? It was so out of the blue!

Lorenz cleared his throat and waited for them both to adopt a more serious attitude before continuing. “Finally, you upped and left without any words to us besides a constant reminder that you were ‘healthy’. And that doesn’t even cover what we saw you do on the street. I’ll admit it was a bit...reckless, but I was concerned for your health, so I followed you. The moment you stepped onto the street you bolted like a wild animal, and though I called your name several times, you ignored me.”

Claude attempted to look nonchalant. “So that’s it?”

Lorenz frowned. “Claude, this is serious. It’s possible this is related to your previous sickness! You may be undiagnosed with some sort of disease!”

“I doubt it, the guys who treated me were some of the best in the Alliance, so I don’t think--”

“If you keep insisting there’s nothing wrong with you, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Lorenz’s face was serious. Even Hilda seemed in on it. 

“Claude, you know I’m all for taking the easiest route out, but you’ve got a problem,” she said. “It really might be best if we get you tested.”

No!

Something within him spiked up, icy fear running down his spine. Why was he so afraid? He had no reason to be! It was almost as if this fear wasn’t originating from himself. 

“Alright, alright you two, I’ll get tested,” he assured them both, leaning back in his seat. “But I’ll do it after tomorrow. I’ve got to catch a flight to Garreg Mach later today.”

Hilda groaned. “Right, Edelgard...what’s even up with her? Why is she so...intimidating, all the time? From what you’ve told us it’s almost as if she wants to start a war!”

Lorenz nodded. “I am loath to think of her constant invitations towards you as entirely friendly.” 

“Friendly or not, I’m one of the only things which seems to prevent her from conquering us all, so I’d like to make my flight, please.” 

Lorenz gave him a look. “Claude.” 

“Hey, I already said I promise to get tested! I know you worry, Lorenz, but I am an adult, and not to mention the leader of the Alliance.” 

“Who is sitting in the back of his best friend’s car with no memory after a long night of strange behavior he can’t explain,” Hilda retorted. 

“Aw, cmon Hilda! You too?” 

“My girlfriend is a vet, Claude. Marianne may deal with animals, but if there’s anything she’s taught me, it’s that when you start having symptoms as extreme as these, you go to a doctor before something worse happens.”

Claude waved them both off. “Look, I already promised, you just need to give me a day. Nothing bad will happen between then, I promise.”

They could both see that convincing him was impossible, so they abated. Hilda sighed and sat back in her seat, checking her phone. Lorenz gave him a sad look, one that spoke of betrayed concern. 

“If you say so,” he murmured. 

\---------

As much as he was trying not to worry them, Claude couldn’t help but worry about himself. Sitting in the back of Lorenz’s car and staring out the window, he pondered the strange voice in his head. The shock of fear that wasn’t his own. What had been described by his friends. 

The moment you stepped onto the street, you bolted like a wild animal. You seemed to have no control over your legs. When I placed a blanket upon you, you reacted as if I’d hit you.

It sounded neural, and that was never good. Hearing a voice was bad enough, especially at his age, but losing control of his limbs and developing paranoia was another can of worms. How could he be fit to rule like this? And the voice...he’d heard it again, in direct response to his friends proposing he go to the hospital. Accompanying it was a strange dread, a fear he shouldn’t have. It seemed like another person’s fear had been moved into him, like he was feeling the emotions of someone else. 

But that was impossible. Was he bipolar? No, he’d been cleared for any mental illnesses. And how could he feel another person’s emotions? 

It was a lie, obviously. He was being paranoid. He should stop focusing on it, and look out the window at the...surroundings. That was flora, right?

He blinked. Those thoughts...didn’t exactly feel like they were his own. But...where else could they come from? 

They were on the highway now, out of Deirdru and heading into the countryside of the Riegan estate. Claude felt his chest tighten. It all seemed so strangely unfamiliar, even though he’d been here dozens of times. Then again, the Riegan estate had always felt unfamiliar, a part of one half of his family that he was hardly welcomed in. To him it was, and always had been, a large building that he was permitted, not truly welcomed, in.

The sight of the gates coming up sparked a small feeling of loneliness within him. Lorenz checked in with the guards, who regarded Claude rigidly as he waved at them. Then they were through, and he could already see the roof just over the hills they had to cross. 

Riegan land was rather large and hilly, covered in meadows full of unique flowers. Copses of trees were littered about, and bushes grew in rows in more areas than they should, bearing forth their shiny fruit regardless of its toxicity. Beehives stood on the edges of the green stretches just before the fences began, blocking off the treeline in an attempt to ward off unwanted animal visitors. From beyond said fences, it was all forest, and hunts on the land weren’t too uncommon; Claude himself enjoyed feasting on the occasional stag he shot with his bow. But despite the beauty of it all, when he saw the enormous Riegan estate come into view, he couldn’t help the cloud growing over his emotions. 

Somewhere within him, he felt as if there was another force that felt similarly. A castle that is lonely, a home that is not your own, a planet full of life that cannot sate you. They were more alike than originally thought. 

Wait, they?

“We’re here, Claude.” Lorenz’s voice snapped him to attention. 

“What? Oh, right, right.” He put on a false grin and grabbed his overnight bag, reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for driving me, Lorenz. Hilda, these rides are always made better by your company.” 

They both gave him concerned looks which only worsened when he almost fell out of the car, for his legs weren’t cooperating again; and his headache, which had never truly gone away, was beginning to return. The servant at the door raised a brow at his clumsy movements as he wobbled, placed a hand on the car, and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“Claude--” Hilda began, but before she could continue, he interrupted her. 

“I’ll be off now! See you guys!” Steeling himself, he forced himself to walk straight to the door, which the servant promptly opened, and entered the estate. Not once did he look back at his friends--it made him feel a little bad, but he couldn’t let them see him weak. Nor could he tip off the servants to his illness. That was for only his family and close friends to know.

He gave half-hearted greetings to the servants at work and ascended the grand staircase at the front, turning to the right to access what had once been the original Duke Riegan’s room. It was located at the end of the U-shaped hallway, and every step made his headache worse. The walk was hellish, and when he arrived he barely had the strength to open the door, which he immediately slammed behind him. 

Claude threw his overnight bag to the side and made a beeline for the bathroom. It was so clean that he could see his reflection in the granite sink, not like he wanted to. He turned the cold water on, but before he could splash his face, a sudden memory hit him. No, if he splashed his face, he’d regret it--it would only bring pain.

And that memory only brought more with it. He remembered being in a bathroom, having this same headache, feeling god awful, all of his senses so sharp, too sharp, and then…

He looked into the mirror, became aware of how green his eyes were. How beautiful they were. How they pulled him in, rose up, pulled him under--

But he resisted. No. This time he would not drown. That feeling, it wasn’t truly his own. Claude forced his eyes shut and turned away, gritting his teeth. The sudden sharpness of his senses was back--he could hear his teeth grinding, feeling each individual press. Blood roared in his ears, a heart pounded in his chest, his diaphragm forced his ribs out as his lungs filled up. His palms were sweating, and they were so hot, and his mouth was so dry, he needed water, now--

Without even thinking of it he drank straight from the tap, feeling the cold water wash away the disgusting taste of his mouth, run down his throat and splash in his stomach. The sudden cold shock disoriented him and his legs buckled from underneath. Claude just barely managed to avoid breaking his own neck as he fell, gripping the sink like the lifeline it was. 

All of this was familiar. Just last night, he had done the same thing. And if he gave in, he’d lose consciousness again and let himself be...controlled. Controlled. 

It made sense now. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t insane. There was a voice responding to his thoughts. The reason he lost control of his limbs, why his senses were so sharp, why he had a headache, why he kept feeling emotions that weren’t his, was all because he wasn’t alone. Someone else was in his head, someone else was trying to control him.

He met his own eyes in the mirror again, and knew that it wasn’t just him within them. 

“Who the hell are you?” He whispered, almost immediately feeling as if he was a fool for saying it. 

And then his doubts shattered like a hammer meeting glass.

“You weren’t supposed to know.”


	5. Blood for Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain leaves his host, Bernadetta has some regrets, and someone dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this update being a day late and shorter than usual! i kinda not subtly wanted to work on claude and dimitri instead, lmao. anyways, i hope this is satisfactory to you all. s/o to silmarwen and my friend knight for keeping me motivated to continue this!

If there was one thing Felix had learned from his short time on earth, it was that humans were easy. Most were clumsy, made docile and complacent from their success as an apex species. Those with strength were nothing against his own scythes, for they had only two arms, and he could outdo them in sheer numbers alone. 

Then there were those who wielded, but not in the same way he wielded his scythes. Their weapons were not a part of their own body--in fact, they had virtually no weapons. Their teeth were flat and useless. Their claws were blunt. Their hair was dead, and their bones were so encased in their flesh that they couldn’t rely on them for any sort of weapon. In fact, it seemed to hurt them--badly--when their bones poked out from their flesh. They had no shell to speak of; their flesh was rather soft, and to top it all off, they only had two eyes--how would they see behind them?

He couldn’t see how such a pathetic species had come to dominate this planet, unless this planet was equally pathetic. And yet, here he was, desperate to rescue Sylvain from his downed craft that the humans themselves must have shot down. Dimitri was missing, and his communications to Zanado were being blocked by some form of technology. Whatever these humans lacked in physical ability, they apparently made up for in technological ability. 

Not like that would stop him from completing his mission. Dimitri had ordered him to avoid killing humans at all possible intervals, but it was a bit late to be enforcing that now. And there was, in fact, something that humans were useful for. 

Their blood. 

He lunged towards the orange-haired human, ignoring the squeaks of the one Sylvain had made a host of. It was wielding a long, thin piece of metal, holding it defensively and bracing for his blow. So it had actual prowess.

Not that it would stop him. Mid-lunge Felix rearranged his curved scythes so they were facing up and performed an uppercut, slashing the human’s arm which wielded the sword. He could have cut it clean off, but held back: they needed that precious blood inside of it, after all, and slicing its hand clean off would likely lose more than the cut he had inflicted. The human let out a cry of pain, but before it could defend itself Felix struck again. He twirled his scythes and struck down, knocking the metal from its hand. 

The human jerked back but stood its ground. Surprising. The way its orange eyes seem to glare at him spoke of one who knew they were beat, and yet would never stop fighting until they were dead. He could respect that. 

It yelled--the translator in his helmet let out a soft whirr as it activated, a slight teal glow emitting from where it was located. 

“Bernadetta, run!” The human yelled to Sylvain’s host. “I’ll distract it!”

How noble. Noble and yet fruitless. But he didn’t like to stand around and mock or draw things out. He unfurled both of his scythes into just the hardened tentacles they truly were and lunged for the human again. 

This time, it dodged him and attempted a strike at his helmet, grabbing the tentacles covering his neck. The one common weak spot of all Vexins. Felix let out a loud buzz and pivoted right into the human, wrapping all of his tentacles around their arms and squeezing both so tightly they were forced to let go. 

Under his added weight the human lost their balance, buckling to the ground. He quickly slithered out from beneath them and reshaped himself into an upright position, balancing on two coils to match the human’s. Then he struck down, wrapping his tentacles around the human’s neck as it attempted to recover. 

It’s blood was spilling on the ground from that cut. Not good; every drop wasted was precious food Sylvain needed. The human clawed at his tentacles, but he merely tightened his grip until they were gasping for breath--another fault of the species. 

Then he turned to Sylvain’s host and raised the human up. “I’ve got you food,” he said, turning to walk towards the ship. “Get out of your host and eat.”

Sylvain’s host sat frozen, wide terrified eyes unable to break away from him. They didn’t move. The human he was heaving writhed and struggled wildly in his grip. 

“Well? Are you going to get out or not, Sylvain?”

“I--I can understand you,” the host said incredulously. 

Felix buzzed in displeasure. “Sylvain, why is your host talking.” 

“Because I didn’t feel like killing her, that’s why.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And what’s the point in that?”

“Dimitri told us not to kill any humans,” Sylvain shot back, slowly causing his host to stand and approach. Even so she looked terrified, eyes quivering and breath quickening as she neared Felix. 

Hoisting the orange-haired human up, who was staring at Sylvain’s host in bewilderment as the last of his breaths escaped and he went limp, Felix slid down into the crater containing Sylvain’s ship and body. He dragged the human to the side of the ship and wrapped his free tentacles around Sylvain’s unconscious form, slowly tugging it forth. It fell, helmet first, to the ground, landing in a splay of tentacles. 

There was so much blood Felix was amazed it was still alive. The elegant orange shell covering Sylvain’s body had been broken, split down the middle to reveal his delicate inner workings. Half of his tentacles had been sliced off on his upper right side. His helmet itself had a hole in it, through which Felix could see a cloudy orange eye.

It was still bleeding. Felix glanced back at Sylvain’s host, who was sliding down the crater wall. 

“You really left yourself in this situation? Why didn’t you just bring your host back and eat it?”

“Her name is Bernadetta, Felix. And I didn’t because I was so focused on finding you. My communicator broke and you were still in space with whatever attacked me.”

Felix paused. “So, you too then.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was attacked as well, and my communicator isn’t working either,” Felix explained. “I got away in much better condition than you, though.” 

Sylvain’s face grew dark. “Do you think Rhea knew? Whatever attacked us got Dimitri, too.”

He froze. “It what.” The human in his grip had finally stopped struggling, seemingly having passed out. 

“I got damaged defending Dimitri from a Lichim. One must have been hiding in a meteorite, or feeding off the shit in Earth’s atmosphere--whatever the case, one broke his ship, and when I went to defend him, something attacked me.”

Felix hissed. “A Lichim?! What’s a beast like that doing four thousand light years from its native home?!”

“I don’t know, but it has to be intentional. They never wander this far on their own. Which is making me suspicious about the information Rhea gave us--this should have been an easy mission, and yet here we are with broken ships, no communications, and split from our king.”

Felix said nothing, just placed his unconscious human on the ground and checked Sylvain’s body for its missing shell. There, upon his right side: a hole in one of his coiled “fingers”. He wrapped a few of his own tentacles around it to lift it up, and tightening his grip on the male human, dragged them forward. 

“Get out of your host and eat,” he commanded. “You need to heal before we can do anything.”

Sylvain looked reluctant, even as he stepped forward and forced Bernadetta to kneel besides his own body. Felix lifted the afflicted area to her neck, and as he watched, the skin suddenly began to move. Bernadetta’s eyes widened as a dozen tentacles burst forth from the back of her neck, quickly shooting into the hole and pulling themselves, along with a short conical shell, into it, and thus out of her. Blood covered the tiny creature, which quickly reattached itself into the hole so only its shell was out. 

In a moment, Sylvain’s body began to move again, and he immediately let out a dying groan. Bernadetta practically jumped back, fell on her rump, and pressed a hand to her neck. Blood was pouring out of the hole left behind. But Felix didn’t care what she thought or intended. His focus was on Sylvain, who was slowly coiling himself up on the ground to create tourniquets of his own tentacles, preventing himself from bleeding out more. 

“I forgot...how much it hurts...to have your shell broken,” he forced out, slowly raising his head. The orange eye within it was quivering. “Ha...this hurts...a lot…” 

Felix forced his unconscious human forward, baring their neck. “Eat.”

He didn’t need to say anymore. Sylvain’s chelicerae were already dropping down, just below his helmet, looking like two tiny, sharp fangs. He had just enough strength to make it to the human’s neck, piercing through the thin flesh with the efficiency of a well-sharpened needle. 

They both ignored Bernadetta’s screams as he fed. 

It didn’t last long. It never did. Sylvain drank until the human beneath him was pale in color before removing his chelicerae and casting a glance at Felix. 

“I don’t want to kill him.” Foolish words from one who was bleeding out. 

“Why.” He narrowed his eyes. “You need more.” 

“He’s a friend of Bernadetta’s.”

“And why does that matter? Are you just pretending to care for this female because you think you have a chance with her?”

“Felix.” Sylvain sounded serious for once. “I mean it. If she cares about him, I don’t want to be the one to spill his blood.” 

Felix’s tentacles curled into a scythe which he raised into the air. “Then I’ll do it.”

“No!” Sylvain grabbed his coiled arm. “Listen to me, dammit!” 

Felix would’ve snapped back at him, but at that moment the wind picked up, carrying a scent with it which made him jerk his head in its direction. Unlike Sylvain, he’d been trained to pick up more than the scents of other Vexins, namely those of other aliens who could pose threats to him or his king. And though it had been a long time since he had picked up a scent like this, he recognized it immediately. 

A Crickix. 

He stood, letting the unconscious human hit the ground. “We’ve got to go. There’s a Crickix in the area.” A new oily scent he wished he couldn’t identify was beginning to mix with it.

Sylvain’s visible eye went wide with fear. “First a Lichim, now a Crickix? I thought this planet only had one apex species!” He struggled to stand, coiling what remained of his tentacles around his broken shell before finally balancing himself on several small coils. 

Felix turned back to him and offered him a “hand”, pulling his body up to support him. “We’re downwind right now, lucky us, but we’ve got to find somewhere to hide, and fast.” He scanned the area--the only potential hiding spots were some small trees which wouldn’t last a second against a Crickix. And the human girl...she was still standing in the crater, watching them with fearful eyes. Why didn’t she run? 

Sylvain raised his head towards her. “Hey, Bernadetta, could we borrow your shelter for a bit? Pretty please? I’ll treat you to something nice if you do!”

Bernadetta clenched both her fists, her gaze shifting to the crumpled male human on the ground. There was no understanding in her eyes. Of course there wasn’t, they had no translators for speech except in their ships, and Sylvain’s was currently broken. 

“She can’t understand you, fool,” Felix chided. “Now let’s get going before it catches us.”

“But Bernadetta doesn’t know! I’m not just going to leave her and Ferdinand to both die!”

Felix let out a long hiss. “You’ve grown soft, Sylvain.”

“Or maybe you’re just cold.”

They glared at each other while Bernadetta ran to Ferdinand’s side, desperately shaking him in an attempt to wake him up. But they also both knew, fighting wouldn’t save them any more than waiting for death would. 

“Fine,” Felix finally said, letting Sylvain drop and struggle to regain his balance. Turning, he approached the humans, ignoring Bernadetta’s shriek as she moved out of the way. With a small amount of effort he hoisted the male human up and onto his side--these beings of flesh were heavier than they looked. Probably because of all their organ systems. 

“You lean on Bernadetta,” he ordered Sylvain, turning his head to her. Even if she didn’t speak his language, surely she was intelligent enough to understand gestures. Emitting a low buzz, he formed a small scythe, the closest he could to a finger, and pointed from Sylvain to her, her to Sylvain. 

She glanced at Sylvain, at Felix, then back to Sylvain, who waved and did his best to raise his tentacles in surrender. Even so, by the time Felix was crawling out the crater, she was still reluctant to come anywhere near the six-foot tall alien. He smelled the air again as he crawled out--the only scent of Lichim had vanished, but the scent of Crickix was stronger. He let out a commanding chirp to Bernadetta and Sylvain, and waited for them at the top of the crater. 

If he ended up dead because Sylvain was putting the lives of useless humans before their own, he would be so pissed off in the afterlife. 

\-----------------

Despite his doubts about the human Bernadetta’s use, she ended up coming through for them both. Reluctantly, she let Sylvain occasionally lean on her shoulder, and guided them right back to her shelter (though whether she wanted to or not was up for debate). It was dark, but the moon aided in lighting their return. Upon arrival, it was beginning to sink in the sky--Felix knew that indicated a time of rest for humans, who tended to sleep at night. 

The scent of Crickix grew stronger the closer they got to the shelter. Several times Felix thought he would have to drop Ferdinand and form his scythes, preparing for a fight to the death, but it never came. When they reached the shelter, he immediately picked up a dozen more scents--all foreign, save for the presence of more humans. Good, there was more food here than there was anywhere else on the land. 

Bernadetta paused, glancing back at Felix and Sylvain. “Um...would it be too much to ask you to wait outside?”

Felix tightened his grip on Ferdinand and lifted a scythe. Sylvain dipped his head and let out a weak chirp.

“Alright, fine! Just...don’t be too noisy, and try to stay hidden!”

She slowly opened the doors, peeking inside to see if any servants were awake before finally opening them completely. Sylvaim limped inside and immediately leaned against a wall, trailing orange fluid behind him. He’d been bleeding the entirety of the way back, leaving a blood trail straight to them. 

Felix followed him inside and immediately scanned the area. He’d never been inside a human shelter before, and their architecture was rather strange to him. A high ceiling, a wooden floor, hallways at the right and left and a staircase against the wall before them, leading to another floor. Some kind of glass contraption hung from the ceiling, looking very elaborate and heavy. 

“Alright, where do I put him?” He looked to Sylvain, who was wrapping his wounds even tighter. “Sylvain!” He dropped Ferdinand immediately and darted to Sylvain’s side. 

There was no response as he shook him except a weak flicker in his eye. Shit, Sylvain needed food right away. And judging from those wounds...no, he’d need more than just blood. 

Without asking or even indicating his intentions, Felix immediately wrapped half of his own tentacles around Sylvain’s open wound and, with a single slash of his free scythe, cut them off. Bernadetta muffled a cry as she watched the freshly cut tentacles wriggle into the open wound, mixing blue and orange as the cut ends of Felix’s connected with the bleeding ends of Sylvain’s.

It was a simple and ancient technique the Vexins had long practiced. They could regenerate their own tentacles with ease, especially if the cut was clean, but in cases where they couldn’t heal fast enough, it was completely normal for them to sever their own tentacles and link the healthy ones with the injured ones. Together, it promoted growth and faster regeneration, and in Sylvain’s case, would save his life. 

Dark blue blood spilled forth from Felix’s right side, but he didn’t care. All he was focused on was ensuring Sylvain survived. His eye flickered, looking from Felix to Bernadetta to Ferdinand, crumpled on the floor, before he too fell to the ground. 

Felix let out a worried click and dropped beside him, slipping a tentacle under his neck to check his vitals. The flow of blood was slow, and the muscles contracting it were weak but present. Sylvain would survive if only he ate immediately and consumed enough to make up for what he’d lost. 

Felix raised cold eyes to Bernadetta, who was looking over Ferdinand. When she caught sight of the alien rising to his “legs”, she jumped back and cried out. 

“No, wait, I’m not a threat I promise! Please don’t cut me up!” She wriggled back as Felix approached. 

Too bad. He raised his free scythe, ignoring how much it jarred his freshly cut side. The pain would pass, and he’d been trained to work with it. 

“Bernadetta? What on earth are you doing!” They both heard. A light appeared at the top of the stairs, illuminating the face of the man holding it. “And--what the hell? What happened to Ferdinand!? What are these?”

Bernadetta didn’t even get a chance to answer as Felix rapidly bolted up the stairs, rearranging his entire body to incapacitate. He leaped upon the human, digging his pointed tentacles into their sides immediately and hurling them down the stairs before diving after them. Bigger than Bernadetta, and with more blood to give. Good. 

Bernadetta watched this happen, watched the Vexin named Felix grab and choke her father, watched them plunge Sylvain’s fangs into his neck. Alien blood was everywhere on the ground, orange and blue, mixing with the fresh red of human. Yet as her father was literally consumed before her eyes, all she thought of was how long it would take to clean.

Oh, and just what she would do with Ferdinand. 

\-----------------

Dawn broke over the quiet Varley mansion. The first servant to awaken was the cook, who began their day at 5am on the dot and began making fresh bread for the master of the house. As their job required them to work all day in the kitchen, their quarters were within the mansion itself. After they had awoken and prepared themselves, they headed into the kitchen to clean it for the morning and work on the bread sponge. 

There was a strange smell in the air, metallic like blood, and yet, buggy like a crushed beetle. When they finished making bread dough and combining it with the sponge to rise, they investigated the source and found the body of Count Varley, pale and shriveled besides the door. Coating the floor around him were what must be pools of blue and orange paint, stinking of crushed beetles. 

The body of Ferdinand was found in a similar state by the horse stables, though he was still alive and immediately taken to the hospital. The police were contacted, the servants questioned, and the unusually brave Bernadetta made to leave her room to give her account of what had occurred the night before. The bodies of the Imperial soldiers, brutally slashed and destroyed, three missing, and with one group coated in a strange slime, only made the attitude over the Varley household more tense. 

The story Bernadetta told was simple enough: she and Ferdinand had explored the grounds, heard an SOS from the Imperial soldiers, and returned to the mansion in fear. Ferdinand had dropped her off, and she had gone straight to her room. That was the last of anything she knew. 

Unable to get anything more out of her, she was left to her devices while the mansion was explored. Shutting the door behind her, Bernadetta breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank goodness they accepted it...how are you guys doing?”

In her closet, what had previously appeared to be two rather large balls of yarn suddenly shifted. Only Felix bothered to leave his hiding spot; Sylvain stayed, coiled around his wounds protectively. He immediately moved to the window, looking out at the police cars below. 

“Those are police...they pretty much enforce the law around here. If they find you guys, none of this will work out for us...so...you need to leave as soon as possible! And not just because I don’t like sharing my room!” She crossed the room to her art desk, grabbing a pencil and paper. “So...what’s our plan?”

Felix glanced back at her, at the paper in her hands and the pencil between her fingers. She wouldn’t move any closer to him, keeping ten feet between them at all times and watching him like a hawk. It was frustrating, not being able to tell her to calm herself, since he had no reason to hurt her now. 

He looked to Sylvain, who was resting, half-asleep on his perch. Sylvain was the one who was good at communicating; he’d always just been the one who cut things. What would Sylvain do…? Well, aside from attempting to cozy up to Bernadetta because she was female, he would need to indicate he was harmless--hard to do when your hands were scythes, but he tried, raising them both in the air and uncoiling them. 

Bernadetta watched him with both curiosity and fear. “Um...what’s that mean? What are you doing? Are you going to lunge at me? I didn’t tell on you guys, I won’t tell when you’re gone, I promise!”

He let out a frustrated buzz. What else did humans understand? He tried chirping, which only made her look more confused. 

“Um...how about...we use a system of yes and no? I’ve seen this kind of stuff on TV…you can understand me, right? If you can, uh...nod your head?”

It seemed strange to him, but he nodded. She nearly jumped, but there was a slight twinkle in her eye that wasn’t present before. 

“O-okay! Okay. So, you can understand me...um, do you intend to leave?”

He nodded. 

“Okay! When? Er...that’s not a yes or no question...um...Sylvain, that is Sylvain, right?” She pointed at Sylvain, and he nodded. “Will you leave when he’s better?” Nod.

Bernadetta inhaled deeply. “So...I just...we just have to lay low until he heals. Which...won’t be easy with all these...police...ugh…” She knew she wasn’t qualified to care for Ferdinand, so she’d left him for the servants to find to avoid any suspicions in her involvement with the events the previous night. 

Felix let out a chirp and perked up at something he’d seen out the window. Bernadetta was curious as to what had invoked his reaction, but she didn’t want to approach him. Just a few hours ago, he had tried to murder her. 

The sound of cars driving away, however, eventually drew her near, though she kept her pad between her and the Vexin. He wasn’t much taller than her, and now that she was so close, she could make out a few small details about him she hadn’t before: like for example, how there were small tentacles hanging from the back of his head, reminiscent of a small ponytail. And his shell seemed to wrap around his body, giving him more shape than Sylvain. 

Out the window, she could see the police leaving. She let out a small “phew” before turning back to Felix and immediately putting distance between them. 

“Um...just so you know, they’ll be back. They’re probably just...going back to look over their evidence and the crime scene, which needs to be cleaned anyways...please don’t be mad! I can’t control them, I just watch a lot of crime TV!”

Felix did not react. He merely turned and joined Sylvain in the closet again, lowering himself on the ground between her dozen slippers and tucking his head into his shell. Bernadetta waited for him to settle before she cautiously approached. 

“Hey, if you’re going to stay here...do you...um...mind if I close the door? I-I don’t mean to make you mad, I just...um...my room is my haven, and I’m not too comfortable with being--”

She didn’t even get to finish before Felix reached out and closed the closet doors, locking himself and Sylvain in. In a way, though, it brought her relief, since that confrontation was done with. And now that it was, she was going to change, get in bed, and try not to think about what had happened the night before. 

The way the Vexins had pierced through necks, drinking the blood from their victims greedily. The way Felix had sliced half of his body off and attached it to Sylvain’s. The new deep circular wound on the back of her neck. The screaming of the Imperial soldiers. Ferdinand’s face as he was suffocated into unconsciousness. The voice of Felix ringing in her head. The paralysis which had overcome her and the loss of control she’d had over her body.

And now, the beings who had caused her this grief were in her closet. If she turned them in, they would kill her or she would be taken into custody. If she continued as she was now...she was harboring literal aliens in her closet. Sylvain had said they didn’t mean her harm, but Felix...and what if they had lied? What were their true motives? And...Dimitri. Who was Dimitri? 

Having changed into her pajamas, Bernadetta crawled into bed and squeezed her eyes shut. The night had left her exhausted, and despite the sun beaming in through her window, painting the room in purple light, she quickly found herself pulled to sleep--a sleep riddled with nightmares of tentacled monsters and blood raining from the sky. 

Still hiding in her closet, Felix finally spoke. 

“We’re fucked,” he said, lowering his head. Above him, Sylvain muttered something. “Can’t hear you.”

“I said yep, we’re fucked. Though...I’d be more fucked if it weren’t for you, so thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Any chance I could treat you sometime for saving my life? We could go to that ocean planet, make hosts of a few mermaids, watch the stars dance in the sky--”

“Sylvain, your brain must be absolutely fucked if you’re thinking I can take a host.”

“Right, right, forgot your scythes took that from you...Still, offer’s up~ We could eat the mermaids instead and you could show me how different ways to cut sushi,” he teased. 

Felix shifted. There was something he hadn’t told Sylvain yet, something that needed to come to the table. And yet...it would only provide more stress for them both. 

“You know...I almost went the other way,” he finally said. “When I was still in the atmosphere, I picked up your distress signal, but you weren’t the only one.”

“What?”

“There was another signal coming from the center of this continent. That place on the map called ‘Garreg Mach’. From how weak it was, it must have been underground.”

“Was it Vexin?”

“I don’t know. I just figured it wasn’t you, since I don’t think even you are stupid enough to try and break into a place like that unnoticed.”

There was a moment of quiet before Sylvain spoke again. “Do you think it’s Dimitri?”

“Maybe. I want to investigate it as soon as possible. So...I might be leaving you.”

“Already?” Sylvain sounded hurt, and despite his cold exterior, Felix felt a pang of regret for causing it.

“It’s for Dimitri.” He wasn’t trying to convince Sylvain. “We were supposed to keep him safe.”

“But you’re injured too, Felix! You can’t go rushing out with the wounds you’ve got now.”

He knew this. He knew if he tried to run now, he’d be caught by humans. Even if he escaped, he was in no condition to fight. The monastery was close, but not close enough for him to make it as just a routine ship, especially if he was staying camouflaged. His best bet was to make it to his ship and move under the cover of darkness. And Sylvain…

“We’re fucked,” he hissed, settling back down. 

\------------------

“What did you see?”

Jeritza’s lips twisted back into a snarl, revealing his needle-like teeth. His pink eyes blazed with fury.

“Kill...kill you...I’ll KILL YOU!” He roared, snapping forward. Only the chains around his neck held him back from tearing apart Thales’ face. 

“Shock him again,” the order came, and Jeritza threw his head back and howled as he was racked with pain. His body twitched rapidly before it came to a stop.

“I will repeat: what did you see?”

He panted, focusing on a spot on the floor. Already, pink was beginning to crawl back into his vision. Kill them, kill them, kill...

“Vex...Vexin,” he spat, saliva dripping from between his teeth. “Orange...and deep...blood...bloody...blue. Two. One...a Blader...”

“What else?”

“Humans...prey...male and female...weak...stinking of Vexin…”

Thales nodded to Solon, who was recording the information. “And what of your injuries?”

A round chunk had been taken out of his leg. It was still bleeding. Bloody..painful...but it wasn’t the wound which irritated him—no, that would be the twenty needles embedded in his back, all draining his blood in his berserk state. Tear them out, stab them into his captors, bite out their hearts...

He hissed through his teeth. “Lichim...cruel...thirty feet tall...black in color...red in belly...kill it...full of human corpses…” 

Drool began to pour from his mouth. Human corpses...meat...he was so hungry. Hungry and in need of a hunt. And his instincts...his instincts called for blood. Kill them, kill them all, he would kill them ALL!

Thales frowned and looked to Solon, who whispered something to him. Then he narrowed his eyes and gestured to the Agarthan standing just outside of Jeritza’s cell: 

“Cease blood collection and give him the female,” he ordered, turning and walking out through the steel door. Solon followed, the heavy structure sliding and locking into place behind them. Through the three inch thick bulletproof glass window, Jeritza could see them leaving as his guard spoke to another.

One day he would break free and kill them. He would feel their bones break between his teeth, their flesh tear like paper, their white blood drip between his teeth. His claws scratched desperately at the ground, his tail whipping from side to side. He would kill them, every last one of them, and pile their corpses at the very gates of Shambhala. 

His ears picked up a familiar click click on the hard ground and perked up. Mercedes! They had Mercedes! He needed to rescue her! 

The steel door slid open, and he was greeted with the sight of his sister being held by an Agarthan. She was taller than them, boasting four arms tipped with deadly claws, and could’ve knocked their legs out from beneath them easily with her forked tail—but she knew it was useless. Through the veil of her hat, her four eyes looked sadly at him.

He roared and strained his bindings, trying to leap forward and tear them off of her. The Agarthan guard shoved her forward before the gate slammed shut behind her. There was very little light within Jeritza’s cell, only the slight blue glow from the markings on the floor, but both of them had a form of night vision and did not struggle in darkness. Mercedes stepped forward without hesitation, kneeling before him.

“Emile...I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you.” Her hands reached out, wrapped around his neck, and her head rested against his shoulder. “I hope this mission wasn’t too hard on you.”

The pink in his vision began to fade. Her scent filled his senses, calming the raging need to protect that he had been driven to once again in order to become the Death Knight. Slowly, his head lowered, and he became aware of just how tired his body was.

“Mer...ced...es…” he managed, but already he was seeing spots. The blood loss he was still experiencing from his open wound as well as the needles in his back, which connected to long tubes that ran into the ceiling, was finally hitting him. He wavered, the chains clinking as his body slumped.

Mercedes held back tears as she shifted position, letting his head rest upon her lap as she tore her skirt to make him a tourniquet. Once it had been tied, she removed the needles one by one, none of them giving up any of their precious cargo. Blood oozed anew from twenty different spots on his bare back, which she covered with her own shawl.

Mercedes...he didn’t deserve her. Not with how kind she was, or how well she treated him. Every day she was used to placate other aliens or drive him berserk. Every day she stood strong and refused to give up the kind heart which had led her to this hellish place.

No...it wasn’t just him who didn’t deserve her. It was the very world itself--never mind the Agarthans. As his dying vision was cast up, he heard her humming a quiet lullaby, running a hand through his blood clumped hair to even it out. He closed his eyes, knowing that if it were his last time doing so, he would be experiencing happiness in his final moments.

Not like they would ever let the Death Knight die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way! i dont know if this will do anything, but since you all are so nice, i would love to talk to you on other social media platforms! my discord tag is bruh#3461 if anyone would like to chat there, and my tumblr is @fortheloveofreya, where i post other works ive written for fire emblem as well! anyways, shameless self promotion done, thank you for reading!


	6. Quarrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Claude talk, and Shambhala assembles its old soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the delay in posting! you guys are all so nice and patient with me, so thank you for that! i feel i should warn everyone, from here on out the fic may become gorier.

“My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd. To you, I am an alien from the stars beyond.”

Claude slowly found his legs, picking himself up on trembling arms. Not once did he break eye contact with his own gaze. It was so strange, staring at yourself and yet knowing you were meeting the eyes of someone else. He didn’t like it. 

“I...apologize for the discomfort I have caused you,” Dimitri said, and Claude himself felt a small burst of shame that wasn’t coming from him. “If you would like, I can disconnect myself from your eyes, though I am afraid it would be temporary.”

Claude forced himself to breathe, still painfully aware of how Dimitri was apparently connected to him and feeling his every breath as well. Despite it, he grit his teeth and shook his head. “No, no, it’s all right...I...it’s just strange to me, is all. Would you mind explaining some things before I agree to anything else? Like...what you mean by ‘connected’?”

“Of course! But first, your body is strained right now. Please, relax yourself, I do not wish any more discomfort upon you than I have already inflicted.”

This Dimitri seemed rather polite for an alien. And the fact that Claude could understand him...it might be because he was embedded inside of him, but he still found it strange. And at that realization, he almost let out a bark of laughter. A parasitic alien was inside of him, speaking to him, and all he thought was it was “strange”. Not morbid, or incredulous, or impossible, or even fucked up. But then again, Claude von Riegan himself was one for the incredulous and the seemingly impossible, what with his ultimate dream of opening Fodlan up to Almyra. 

Perhaps that was why he didn’t feel this alien situation as impossible. Perhaps, after all that had happened to him this week, he had been desensitized to the strange. Perhaps he was just glad to finally have an answer. Or perhaps, after all his training in discussion and analyzing others, trying to weave his way through interactions with others to make every outcome beneficial to himself, he was used to maintaining this mask of calm.

Whatever the reason, internally, he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding. There was an alien inside of him. He’d discovered alien life that could communicate with him, life that was fully sentient! He was bubbling with questions even as he left the bathroom, walking to the window and leaning against it, trying to focus on the grounds and appear calm. Could he fool an alien in his head?

“I am afraid not,” Dimitri answered, and Claude nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ah, forgive me for scaring you. I feel I should tell you, however, before anything else, that I can hear your thoughts.”

Claude felt an embarrassed blush rise to his cheeks, caught off guard. Of course Dimitri could hear his thoughts, he’d been responding to them before, and now...oh sweet heavens he’d heard him plotting. His stomach sank at the sudden prospect of being discovered. 

“I am sorry that my presence causes you such distress. But...forgive me, if I cannot hear your thoughts, I cannot communicate with you. I have linked our minds so that we may communicate directly with our thoughts, otherwise you would hear nothing from me, and I, nothing besides your voice.”

‘So, wait,’ Claude thought. ‘You can hear this?’

“Indeed. I’m afraid that by connecting us, I accidentally linked our emotions as well...oh, but I am sure it should not cause any discord between us! If we are to form a bond, understanding the emotions of each other should allow for a better understanding between us.” He felt a hopeful rising in his chest.

‘Uh…’ 

Claude didn’t really know how to feel about that. Forming a bond with Dimitri the alien parasite…? Sharing emotions and thoughts…? It felt so...intrusive. He realized Dimitri likely heard all of that, felt how violated he currently felt. But why shouldn’t he feel violated? This was his body and his mind, the two things in the whole universe which he knew belonged to him, and they were being intruded upon by an outsider. An outsider who didn’t even come from this planet! 

But Claude knew that was thinking motivated by fear. Thinking like that lead to discrimination and war, to dehumanization and genocide. Thinking like that was what led to Almyra and Fodlan being separated, with Fodlan refusing to open its borders to any other country. Thinking like that would get him nowhere, make an enemy out of a potential friend. 

“You are very mature,” Dimitri commented. “I understand your anger, though. It is true my kind aren’t the most...desirable, to associate with.”

“What is your kind, anyways?” He became aware of an unpleasant smell and glanced down at his shirt. Covered in grass stains and dirt, it smelled like the harbor and had a wet spot from his encounter with the tap. Frowning, he pulled it off--and felt an immediate fascination with his own body. 

“Hey, don’t mean to be rude, but could you stop with the staring?” He started, forcefully prying his eyes away from his own pecs. 

“Oh! My apologies.” The “grip” over his eyes immediately released. “It is just my first time observing human anatomy up close; I am simply intrigued with how similar our structures are! I hope such similarities will come to be shared amongst our minds as well.”

“Is that so?” Claude said as he tossed his shirt into the laundry bin. His pants needed washing too...but he’d handle that later. Without putting a new one on he flopped down on his bed and leaned against the wall. “Tell me about yourself, then. What are you like, and how are we similar in mind and body?”

“Hm...well, we are similar in that we are both fully sentient! We are both capable of developing bonds amongst others of our kind, as well as those outside of it--it is my hope that we can come to extend this to each other, as well.”

“By that you mean…?”

“That you and I may become good partners.” He felt like smiling; it must be coming from Dimitri. “And of course, that our species barrier should not induce any kinds of suspicions or prejudices between us.”

“I don’t see why it should. If I’m to unite Fodlan, I can’t be closed off against aliens.” He quirked a smile. “Now, what did you mean about physical similarities?”

“Oh, that one is easy! Our bodies both have a central structure where the majority of our organ systems are harbored, though I’m afraid you have far more than I do. We also both prefer to stand up straight! ...Though I cannot say that my kind has such a strange bone structure; in fact, we have no bone structure quite like yours. Tell me, what kind of evolutionary benefit does such an odd spine bring?”

“It makes you humble when you get back pain in your twenties,” Claude joked. 

“Pain? But isn’t pain bad for you? Does your species see pain as a necessary experience?”

“Some of us do,” he waved a hand. “I’m not one of those types, and that’s why I do yoga and meditation in my free time.”

“Is that some kind of anti-pain exercise for you humans?” Dimitri sounded fascinated. “Or is it a way for you to cope with the inevitability of pain? Tell me, what is ‘yoga and meditation’?”

“It’s hardly important,” Claude waved a hand and was met with a slight feeling of disappointment. “All you really do is sit there for a long time and occasionally change position. But hmm...how about you tell me what you look like? Usually I wouldn’t ask, but...well, we’re in a bit of a predicament here, aren’t we?”

Dimitri recovered fast. “I suppose we are...it is no problem to me, though! I am glad to introduce my kind to another. If I could, I would gladly showcase my own body for you.”

Claude wasn’t sure if that was some form of flirting or not and raised a brow. “Really now?”

“Quite!” 

That response very much did not answer his question of if Dimitri had just flirted with him or not. 

“Now, where to start…” Dimitri continued. “I suppose to you humans, we would look strange. We don’t have quite as few limbs--in fact, we have thousands compared to you, though they are much smaller and more versatile. And instead of an endoskeleton like you, we have a shell. It covers our heads and what you humans would consider our ‘chests’.”

Claude couldn’t help but think of beetles at Dimitri’s descriptions. Beetles...no, thousands of legs...millipedes! The image of a giant millipede flashed through his head, earning a concerned squawk from Dimitri.

“Wh-what is...is that a Lichim?!” He started, a feeling of apprehension growing within Claude. 

“What’s a Lichim? That’s just a millipede. They’re usually pretty tiny--I thought you guys sounded like them.”

“Um...alright…” Though he failed to see the resemblance. “Lichims are...well, I suppose they’re not on this planet, and you will never encounter them, so there is little need to review them. Why don’t we discuss something else? I would love to hear about you humans!”

Claude shrugged. So this was like twenty questions? He could play at that. “Alright, shoot.”

“Ah...what is twenty questions?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Nineteen.”

“Hey! That’s sneaky! Uh...what do you humans like to eat? I have heard you are omnivores.”

“Well, it depends on the person you meet. Some of us like meat, some of us wouldn’t touch it to save our lives.” He thought of Marianne, so gentle and animal-loving she had gone vegetarian. Dimitri seemed excited at the thought of her. “What about you guys? Oh, and for that matter, does your species have a name?”

“Of course! We are called ‘Vexins’. Who was that blue-haired female? I believe I came into contact with her before!”

“Oh yeah, you definitely did. Not to sound rude, but would you answer my question?”

“Of course. Our primary diet is made of blood. In order to consume it, we have two chelicerae which serve to pierce and anchor, and a hypostome for deep drinks. Though...I cannot say we have ‘teeth’. Really, what a strange structure to have in your mouth when you can fully well survive off of liquids too! ...Ah, my bad, you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Claude chuckled. “No, no, continue, please. Tell me about how strange we humans are to you.” In truth, he was rather horrified at the implications that a blood drinking alien was currently inside of him, feeding off of him like a...parasite.

“I...I would prefer not, it is rather impolite for me to do so.” Dimitri gave no comment on the ‘parasite’ thought. “How about instead, we...ah...discuss the future?”

“And what of it?” He glanced out the window at the sun beginning to dip towards the treeline. The summer days were long, but it didn’t change the fact that it was 5:42 and he had a flight at 8. “The future of Fodlan? Of the universe? Of humanity? Or just what we’re going to do in two hours?”

“I...well...it does me no good to keep this secret, so I will tell you. I am not here merely to see the beauty of this planet. I am from Zanado, last home of the Nabateans, and have been dispatched here on a mission. In the future I...may have to put you in danger. But know that I do not wish you any harm--quite the opposite, in fact.”

That intrigued him, and not just because Dimitri had potentially just threatened. Nabateans? Looked like there were more aliens than he thought. But from the sounds of it, they had Dimitri operating underneath them, which implied a power structure, which implied an otherworldly society. And all that amounted to him being infected with a parasite and potentially facing danger for some beings he didn’t even know. 

“What kind of mission are we talking about here? Weird out a bunch of humans until they become so worried they lock you in a car and take you home?” He teased, trying his best to sound far less wary than he felt. 

“What? Oh, that...forgive me for causing you such grief, I am new to this whole...host situation. In truth I...cannot say, exactly, why they chose me out of everyone…”

But you know why, or you think you know why, and it leaves you distrustful. 

“Ah, my bad. As I was saying, my intent was never to make you cause your friends such trouble. I planned to hold you unconscious until my mission was done, so you would simply fall asleep and awaken without any trouble. But...ugh, I must admit I have no idea how to hold it for long! Sylvain makes it look so easy!”

“Who’s Sylvain? Are they one of your alien friends?” 

“Sylvain is my...er...yes, he is my close friend from childhood. And I...oh, goddess, I...he was supposed to meet me here on Earth…”

Claude could feel a sudden panic rising within him and immediately tried to quell it. “Hey, hey, don’t worry, you’re upsetting me too, calm down!”

“But they’re gone! Where could they have gone? And where’s my...my ship! My ship and my body, where did I leave them? Oh goddess, I’ve...I’ve done it now…”

The panic within him was starting to fall, dripping down and transforming into fearful sorrow, shame, and behind it all--no, that was isolated, kept from him, and he was glad, because he hated feeling this way, all because he was being forced to share. At the new emotion from Claude, the negativity from Dimitri began to ebb, as if being pulled from him. 

“I’m sorry...for my outburst. It is highly improper of me to bring this upon you…”

“It’s not like you can keep it from me,” Claude replied, trying not to sound or think of how irritating it was. “Since we’re apparently linked and all. You might as well get it out while I’m listening; what did you mean your ship and your ‘body’? Aren’t you currently inside of me?” It felt really weird to say, and he prayed no servant was listening through the door. 

“O-of course. What’s inside of you right now is an extension of myself, but not my true body. That should be unconscious within my ship--but I don’t remember where my ship is! And...if I am not reunited with my body eventually, it will die, and I’ll be trapped like this forever…”

So Dimitri could leave, he just needed his body back. Well, that was good news, appears they wouldn’t be sharing forever. Claude still couldn’t exactly say how he felt about linking their thoughts, anyways. Not without upsetting Dimitri. 

“Alright, calm down. If you try to take on all of this problem at once, you’ll just collapse from stress. Let’s take a slower approach. Tell me what you remember.”

“What I remember? Hm...water, a lot of it. Shaking...cold...and darkness. That night where I injected into you...it’s all blurry, I’m afraid.” 

Why was his memory gone? Sylvain or Felix should have woken him up, he should have been awake when he hit Earth’s atmosphere, and moving into another planet was always an experience to remember, so why couldn’t he? Even after injecting into Claude...it was all blank, as if he had been simultaneously moved in his sleep from his ship to a host. 

“What do you mean, ‘injected’?” Claude didn’t comment on what he had heard from Dimitri; it hardly made sense to him either, and he wanted to focus on whatever he could actually understand. 

“When I...made you my host. We inject by drilling into our potential hosts and swiftly healing the wound left behind, so that our hosts won’t become suspicious.”

Claude jolted up. The wound on his neck! “So it was you who was responsible for covering my sheets in blood!”

“Ah, yes, I’m afraid I--”

He didn’t really hear Dimitri. No, he was lost in his own thoughts. The crashing that had awoken him that night, that near earthquake! Was it Dimitri’s ship? If he’d awoken to all that blood, it must have been that night a week prior in Almyra at the summer palace! Then, Dimitri’s ship and body...he couldn’t help but grin, in a fortunate stroke of luck, it appeared the handling of this situation would be easier than he thought. 

“Claude?” He heard Dimitr’s confused voice and honed in on it. “What’s Almyra?”

Oh, shit. Looked like his secret was out--but then again, how long could he have hidden it?

‘Almyra is my home,’ he thought, loath to say it aloud in case someone was listening. They probably thought he was crazy, but whatever. ‘I’m the prince there.’

“You’re a prince?” Dimitri sounded surprised. 

‘Yeah, though it’s nothing like what it’s hyped up to be. Lotta bullying and a hell of a lot more responsibilities. But anyways, Fodlan doesn’t exactly like Almyra. It’s my goal to change that, but until then, I can’t really reveal that I’m Almyran.’

“You have to hide who you are? I’m sorry, that sounds terrible, Claude. I know what it’s like to not have anyone you can trust…” 

Claude was barely focused on him. Hiding himself...like hiding his real name, which he wouldn’t even think of. He wanted that part of him to remain secret, even if it resulted in a confused curiosity from Dimitri. 

‘Well, it’s a little necessary right now, but one day it won’t be. Point is, we’re in luck, Dimitri. If I can just get back to Almyra, we can get your body back--you’ll be leaving if that happens, right?’

“I...you want me to leave already?”

“Well...not that I dislike you, Dimitri, but I’ve built my life around keeping secrets, and you’re kinda unlocking them all before I’ve even gotten to know you.”

He couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t uncomfortable with the situation, anyway. 

“If you are truly so discomforted by my presence...then,,,yes, I will leave when we find my body.” Dimitri sounded downtrodden. “I just...I...no, it is nothing.”

He went silent after that. 

‘Dimitri?’ Claude thought, and didn’t get a response. Yikes, looks like he had upset him. And it wasn’t exactly the best to be on poor terms with the person on his head...how could he make it up?

There was a knock on his door, which sent him scrambling off his bed. “Ah--what is it?” 

The servant didn’t open the door, likely hearing his scrambling and deciding they didn’t care to see what he was up to--or perhaps they didn’t want to see the duke they’d never cared for anyways. “The chef has prepared your favorite in honor of your temporary return. Would you like it delivered to your room?”

“Sure.” He made sure to sound more confident than he felt, realizing he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Just leave it outside, I’ll get it in a moment.”

“As you say.” They stepped away, and a few moments later Claude heard them wheeling a cart back. By that time, though, he had pulled on a black shirt and quickly combed his hair to avoid looking as disheveled as he had. When they opened the door and left him his dinner, he looked far better than he felt. 

“The pheasant was caught earlier today, and the berries were picked fresh for you. Enjoy.” There was no emotion in their voice as they lifted the metal cover and bowed to him, leaving him with a heaping plate of food. 

Despite the fact that not a single person in this estate cared for him, and the alien in his head was currently sulking, he couldn’t help but feel quite excited at the sight of food--he hadn’t eaten all day, and his stomach was growling loudly at the prospect of feasting upon it. And the smell--oh, the smell was divine! Not as good as what he had in Almyra, they could never get the spices right, but still absolutely divine! 

He ended up wolfing down the entire platter and ordering another, which he also ate, though with slightly less eagerness. Then, he bathed to get the stink of the harbor off of him. By that time it was 7:20, and he had a thirty minute ride to the airport for his scheduled flight at 8. It would be three hours to Garreg Mach, and he couldn’t say he was looking forward to it.

As he dressed himself and took to gathering his belongings, he focused on how silent Dimitri had been. Sure, they had just actually met, but just an hour ago he had seemed so talkative and eager. It felt a little jarring, really, but also slightly concerning, since he didn’t know what the alien in his head was up to. 

But really, in truth, he didn’t fancy having anyone in his head besides himself. It made him uncomfortable.

‘Dimitri?’ He thought, trying to reach out. There was no response. ‘Hey, Dimitri, are you still there?’

Nothing. Well, that was mildly concerning--but then again, he couldn’t exactly sense anything from Dimitri either right now. Had he just cut off? Or had Claude just hallucinated the entire thing? Looking at the indent he had made in his bed--it couldn’t have all been a hallucination, he’d determined that an hour ago--had it really only been two hours?

Well, he’d have plenty of time to think about it on his flight. Picking up his travel suitcase, he gave himself a once-over and left his room. Once outside of the Riegan estate, he threw his belongings in his car (which he had left parked there two weeks ago) and srt out. 

Dimitri...he must have upset him, for Claude knew he was real. Was he just giving him the silent treatment? It wasn’t good to have enemies in your head...speaking of being in his head, Dimitri could probably hear all this. Hey, he was sorry for possibly offending him earlier, would he speak again?

“...these grounds are rather beautiful,” he heard whispered. “All this green reminds me of Zanado.”

“Is that your home planet?”

“In a way, yes. My kind has been permitted to live there for now...since our true home was destroyed.”

Ouch. How should he respond to that?

“So...you like the scenery? I guess it’s gotten old to me by now.” There was no warmth in this place even in the summer. “Would you like me to slow down?” 

“No, it is not necessary. I can observe from afar—tell me, what are those white cubicle structures?” 

“Those? They’re beehives. This time in the season, you can get fresh honey from them weekly—do you have honey where you’re from?”

“No, I am unfamiliar with the concept. Just as I am to this...contraption, we are in. Is this some form of ship?”

Claude almost snorted. “You don’t have cars where you’re from? You’d figure that a space travelling alien would see a car as rather primitive.” 

“Hm...I have never heard of a car. On Zanado, we are only permitted to use ships. Even so, the ships available to my kind are held by the Nabateans, and we must request permission to use any of them.”

“Sounds controlling. Who are these ‘Nabateans’?” They were on the highway now.

“The Nabateans? They are few now...only three remain. Zanado has been their home for thousands of years—it was only by their grace that my kind was permitted to inhabit it. They are descended from the Goddess herself, and each carries a power great enough to destroy a planet.”

“Well then...not sure how to feel about alien god people capable of destroying worlds. But...if they can destroy worlds, then why are you here? And who exactly is this ‘Goddess’?”

Dimitri fell silent for a moment. “I am on a mission to retrieve a captive and must not be discovered, lest an extinction event occur. That is all I can tell you.”

“Well, alright then. I’m guessing I fit into the ‘must not be discovered’ part?” 

“Ah, yes. In order to retrieve my target, I must blend into human culture. Would you do me the honor of educating me in it?

Claude shrugged. “It’s anonymity that you want, right? If that’s the case, then you definitely shouldn’t be in my body.”

“What? Why?” Dimitri sounded concerned.

“In Fodlan, I have to operate as the leader of the Alliance, which means the public eye is on me a lot. If you’re trying to fly under the radar, you should choose someone else.”

“But I...well, I was supposed to take a different host...a female named Edelgard, I do believe, so I must apologize for wrapping you up in this. My stay will be temporary, I promise.” But he didn’t want to move, he liked...

Claude’s eyes widened. “Edelgard? You were targeting Edelgard?”

“Yes, according to my data, she would have been a host with exceptional power to—“

“Are you still up for using Edelgard?”

“What?”

Claude winked at nobody in particular. “Because if so, I’ve got great news for you, buddy.”

\--------------------------

By the time he had arrived at the airport, Claude had already formulated a plan. If Dimitri wanted to infect and control Edelgard, then he had no problems in helping him achieve that goal. Infecting Edelgard was a surefire way of dealing with her and removing her from the equation for now, giving him time to begin working on improving the relationship between Almyra and Fodlan. All he had to do was get Dimitri into Edelgard.

That was the hard part. Shifting Dimitri into another host required skin to skin contact for a prolonged period of time, apparently, and preparation on behalf of Dimitri as well. Claude figured he could devise something to get him close enough to Edelgard to maintain skin contact, but Dimitri seemed reluctant to accept the plan. Though he had agreed, he couldn’t hide the hesitancy from his voice or emotions. 

“I am not so sure if changing hosts so soon would be good for either of us,” Dimitri protested as Claude took his seat on the plane, choosing the window, of course. “I have never shifted hosts before, and I have not had ample time to prepare for a change. If it fails, you could be hurt.” 

‘But can you do it?’ Claude thought, watching the plane take off through the window. He always rode in business class, since riding in first just drew attention to himself. Beside him was an orange-haired woman, busy on her phone. ‘We might not have another chance like this, so even if you’re inexperienced, it couldn’t hurt to try.’

“Well...I can, but I…” He felt something akin to hurt building his chest. “Why are you so eager to be rid of me? We’ve just met, but all your thoughts have been focused on my removal!” 

He really didn’t like the fact that Dimitri could see right through him thanks to being in his head. Claude mentally glanced away. ‘Well...it’s nothing against you, I’ve just got my own ambitions to work on and my own secrets to keep, so--’

“So you don’t want another hearing of your plots, learning of your secrets, or knowing anything about you that could leave you vulnerable.” Dimitri sounded angry, but it quickly faded. “In that way, I am nothing but a blockade...”

Claude blinked. He didn’t really know what to say to that. ‘Dimitri, I didn’t--’

“You don’t want me here. You don’t trust me.” He was overcome with a powerful feeling of loneliness, of pain and sorrow and rejection. The sudden influx brought tears to Claude’s eyes. “When I am gone, you will be quite glad that I have exited your life.”

‘Wait, no, that’s not what I meant! You’re really interesting, I’m just...not very comfortable with us sharing thoughts, or…” Or emotions, for that matter. Claude wiped away a tear, trying his best to pretend he didn’t notice the woman watching him crying. ‘If that aspect was gone, then I’d be more than happy for you to stay around!’

“So you could plot against me, learn everything about me while remaining mysterious yourself, and use me as a vessel for information?” Dimitri snapped. “You would only want me around for your own benefit!”

‘Hey, it’s not my fault you chose to inject into me,’ Claude retorted. ‘I didn’t choose you, you chose me, and now you’re angry that I’m upset about it? Did you forget to do your research before coming to this planet, because news flash, most people don’t like it when there’s an intruder in their head listening to every private thought they’ve ever had!’

“If I could have it any other way I would!” Dimitri shot back. “When I injected into you I could have made you my flesh puppet! I could have eaten your brain and made you into nothing but a walking corpse for me to pilot, but I didn’t, because I’ve always thought it improper to use and discard others like tools! I didn’t want to kill you, I wanted to meet you, learn about you, come to know you, and…and it has only made you miserable.” He trailed off, delving into silence.

Felix was right, he was too soft. Soft and incapable. How could he ever be a ruler? He could not even make friends with this human.

Claude wiped Dimitri’s tears from his eyes and set his jaw. So what if Dimitri’s intentions were otherwise benign? It was still such a breach of privacy on behalf, and he barely even knew the alien…

The plane ride to Garreg Mach was spent in silence as he busied himself with staring out the window, trying not to think about the silence filling his skull. Equally so was his arrival at Garreg Mach--he was greeted by one of the nuns there and escorted to his room, it being so late that most were asleep. Claude maintained his facade of calm and charming, of playful but harmless scheming, until behind closed doors he let his smile and body drop into bed. 

All he wanted to do was sleep. He had to work with Edelgard tomorrow and he had Dimitri to deal with--and as far as he knew, both of them were intent on using him for their own personal gain. Except one was in his head, and apparently capable of turning him into a flesh puppet, and the other was in another room somewhere, likely planning to have him assassinated to permit her rise to power.

He groaned and rolled over, holding his pillow to his face. Tomorrow would be rough. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on sleeping, and quickly sank away into a world of dreams. 

At the very edge of his dream he saw a man with blonde hair and dark armor, watching him from afar; when he tried to approach, they vanished.

\---------------------

In the darkest depths of Shambhala, no one could hear him scream. It had taken him only a week to learn such a truth, and it revisited him every day. If he was fortunate for being able to comprehend it while all those around him continued to shriek, he certainly didn’t feel it. 

In the cell beside his, Sariel was pacing and chattering nonsense. In the cages a floor above, the Death Knight was undergoing another madness treatment to make him functional. In the labs below, the final floor to house all the abominations like himself, what remained of Lambert was quietly sobbing, begging for the release it would never get. 

Out of them all, he was the only one sane enough to comprehend he would never leave this place. That he would die here, whether it be from another reconstructive surgery or a suicide mission that they knew he could complete. He wasn’t as valuable as Sariel, the perfect weapon, who could pump out eight Vexin scythes per day and rearrange his entire body to serve as the Death Knight’s personal weapon. He wasn’t as giving as Lambert, who they had hooked up to every machine possible to ensure he stayed alive. He wasn’t as dangerous as the Death Knight, whose rampage never stopped with his target. 

No, he didn’t bear the strength they wanted, which only came from madness. He was their entertainment. Their little project, to pull apart and put together as many times as they pleased. He was their little bitch, the soldier they could send on missions where they didn’t want to lose anyone valuable. And yet he always came back, whether it was in pieces or not. His survivability intrigued them, made them bring him back from the brink of death over and over again. 

Sariel let out a sudden hiss and began to assault the glass of his containment cell--he knew that meant someone was approaching. He raised his head from his sitting position in the corner and looked to the observation window. It was dark in Shambhala, with only the blue lines on the walls and floor to illuminate the space, but he could see just fine the Agarthan who stopped in front of his cell. 

Orange hair and eyes, a tear-drop painted on one cheek, and tight fitting black clothing which barely covered her. The white worms wriggling in her veins glowed beneath her translucent skin, giving her an eerie aura like a ghost. Already, her natural hypnosis was beginning to affect him, trying to tell him to stand, come near to her, obey…

“Hey there! Guess what day it is!” Kronya chirped, giving him a big smile that belonged to a crocodile. 

He didn’t answer. Her giddiness always irritated him, for it only appeared when she was about to kill; or in this case, operate. And what use was speaking down here? They hated his voice.

“Our mission starts tomorrow,” she continued, ignoring his silence. “And it’s about time we fixed those limbs of yours, anyways. Now hurry up and get your worthless insectoid ass out here, before I rip your limbs off and throw you on the operating table myself.” 

Throughout all of it, she was smiling. She placed her finger to the lock on his door, and it slid open. In one hand, perched on her hip, she was holding her signature weapon, Athame. In the other, she was holding a black metal collar. Despite the guns she had available to her and her proficiency as a sniper, she still preferred to stab or cut the throats of her victims. 

He forced himself to his feet, balancing on the two rotting legs they had attached to him months ago. One belonged to what had been a horse, the other a human. It left him with a stagger, which he knew they enjoyed. They were perfectly capable of fitting him with limbs which were functional, but they liked to watch him suffer. 

Kronya’s face betrayed nothing as he stepped out and she opened the collar, clasping it around his neck. It adjusted immediately, squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe, and poking him lightly from all sides. If he fought, all the needles in the collar would shoot out at once, and if the damage itself did not kill him, the poison they injected surely would. Kronya stood before him, clutching Athame eagerly. 

“You know the way, Vexin vermin.” 

He did. He turned around, exposed his back to her, knowing that she would sink her blade into it without second thought if allowed, and staggered down the hall. The elevator to the lower labs was at the end of the cell block, requiring him to pass all the other aliens in containment. He tried not to focus on them as he dragged himself forward, the tendons in his horse leg already snapping and straining from the effort, blood trailing behind him. 

Kronya activated the elevator and shoved him in, tearing his leg completely off and requiring him to balance himself on his upper limbs as well. Before stepping in, she grabbed what remained of his leg and tossed it into the nearest cell. Blood splattered against the glass as the alien tore away at its newfound prize. 

The doors closed and they began to descend, her smiling eagerly at the orange blood pool forming on the ground as he glared up, watching the blue light grow dimmer. They passed the first floor of the lower labs, the second, and finally arrived on the third. The doors opened and he was shoved out, forced to crawl into the open space, keeping his head low. 

The elevator opened into a large, circular room. Four hallways extended on each side of it, with a single door waiting directly across from the elevator. It opened onto a catwalk, and beneath it was the greatest project the Agarthans had ever worked on--and that was as far as he knew. Vermin like him wasn’t allowed to see it.

He wasn’t going there, anyways. The operating rooms were on the left, and the one he was designated to enter was already open. It was so dark he could barely see. Kronya half shoved him inside, practically shaking with her eagerness. 

“Today we’re reinforcing you, I hear,” she said. “Solon said I can saw off your limbs. I promise I’ll make it as painful as possible!” 

The operating table he was to be strapped to greeted him like a punch to the gut. It had already been set up, the main metal body connected to five smaller ones, all designated to hold down his limbs and his head. The cart with the surgical tools awaited beside it, and standing over the cart, under a black robe, was Solon. The worms within his veins were less bright, letting off a faint white glow. His hypnosis was more direct, commanding him to climb onto the table and hold still. There was no eagerness or anticipation indicated in his eyes, no concern at all.

There was, however, a new face. What looked to be a half alien was standing by, a similar collar strapped around her neck. She was at least seven feet tall, bearing four arms and a two pointed tail. Her face was gentle and framed by short hair, her dark blue eyes looking at him with pity. A tattered brown dress was all that covered her.

He had seen her around before: she was the one they used to calm the Death Knight. Apparently she was also a powerful healer--which was horrible news for him. They only brought healers in when the operations would be rough. 

“Climb onto the table,” Solon commanded, and he obeyed. The hypnosis was strong now, slurrying his thoughts and will. Climbing onto the table, he strapped his neck down and his collar was promptly removed. The rest of him was strapped in by the half alien woman, who then stood aside and lowered her head. 

“Can I start cutting now?” Kyronya asked eagerly, flipping Athame out and holding it in a stabbing position. 

“Not yet, Kronya,” Solon said, turning to her. “I must prepare the new limbs. Watch him while I retrieve them.”

Kronya frowned and placed a hand on her hip as Solon left the room. “Boring...will you scream extra loud for me to make it up?” She grinned down at him like a shark. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, and her grin only widened. 

“So you are talking today! And here I thought that my little toy had finally broken. I’m going to enjoy this…”

The sound of wheels alerted them both to Solon, returning with a cart. On it were several massive limbs, still oozing greenish black blood from where they had been cut. Some were even still twitching. They looked draconic in nature, almost; a far cry to the animalistic pieces they had been attaching to him recently. His attention, however, was most drawn to the needle of green blood sealed alongside them.

“This next mission will require a much deadlier breed of alien than what we have given you before,” Solon explained, wheeling up beside the table and pulling on two latex gloves. “Today you will be attached to one of our failed Nabatean experiments.”

He would have cried in protest and struggled against his bindings, but he knew it only hurt more when he struggled. Instead, he focused on steeling himself. 

“You may begin cutting, Kronya.”

Kronya let out an eager giggle and stabbed her dagger into the tentacles connecting him to the human leg he had left. He flinched, which only encouraged her to press even harder. The blade came clear through the tentacles and pressed to the table as she began to saw. Orange blood coated the blade and pooled onto the table, dripping to the floor as his first limb fell slack in the bindings. 

Kronya eagerly broke it in half and jerked it out, casting it onto the floor. The red human blood within mixed with his own orange Vexin as it landed. She raised her head to the half alien standing by. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Clean it up!” She demanded as she stabbed Athame into the tentacle connecting his torso to his left arm. It broke less easily than his leg had, for it was more accepting of the wyvern leg he had been given as an arm. 

The difficulty only excited Kronya all the more. She pulled Athame out, stabbed in a different spot, tore it out and stabbed at the bottom. He jerked and shook with every stab, orange and red blood splattering onto her cheek and over her hands. She didn’t care. Having found a sufficient area to cut, she sawed her dagger upward and finished her cut by physically tearing his wyvern leg off. 

His final limb left remaining was that of Crickix; specifically, the discarded arm of the Death Knight after he had regenerated it. Kronya didn’t even need to cut it; the tentacles had so rotted away that a mere pull from her disconnected it and filled the room with the stench of decaying flesh. Sticky strands of orange and gray fell from the limb and landed on the table. 

He closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the smell. It hurt, all of it had hurt, but he’d long ago learned to grit through the pain. The limb had been itchy for a while now, the pain having vanished long ago. It felt like peeling off dead skin, connected only by a layer of sticky pus.

“All done!” She giggled happily and turned to Solon. “Can I remove his head next?”

“You may aid me in fusing the limbs to his body,” he answered, and Kronya shook a bloody fist in excitement. 

Solon removed the first limb, a dark and scaly draconic claw, and placed it onto the table for his left arm. He arranged the other limbs similarly, placing one on each table for its designated area. Then, he reached down to pull the tongs off the surgical table. 

It was a long and painful process to reattach every one of his tentacles to a new limb. Each individual tentacle had been scarred over long ago, back in his childhood, and would refuse to grow and attach to anything else--unless it was forcefully welded into that limb. Solon would pluck each tentacle individually, cut it open, stick it into the limb, and cauterize it, searing the flesh around it to prevent the tentacle from extracting. He did this with each individual tentacle, at least 100 per new limb. 

By the time they had finished he barely felt the pain anymore. Orange blood coated the table beneath him and painted the floor. Kronya’s hands were covered in the stuff as Solon discarded his gloves. 

“Are we going to replace his eyes too, Solon?” His helmet shell had been broken open long ago and never healed, so that the lower portion of his face was visible. His dark orange eyes glared weakly out at her. 

“Not today, Kronya.” Solon plucked the needle of green blood up and tapped its side. “Now, it is time for injection.”

Injection would make his limbs connect, would make him survive another operation. For years they had kept him alive with the remnants of Nabatean blood. And every time, it hurt worse than the last. 

“Hold him down. You too,” Solon commanded Kronya and the half-alien, who both obliged. Placing one hand on his left limb, he stuck the needle under a scale and pressed down ever so slightly on it. 

The burning pain which rushed through him made him shriek and jerk forward. Kronya delivered a jab under his shell, bruising his organs and forcing him to lie still to prevent them from breaking. Solon moved to his next limb, injected him there. 

He screamed and began to bang his head against the steel plate he laid against. If he killed himself, if he broke his shell and died, there would be no more of this. If he broke his neck, even the Nabatean blood wouldn’t bring him back. If he could just die--

Kronya grabbed his neck and squeezed, hard, holding him still. Her red eyes practically glowed in the dark as she met his own. They were filled with glee. 

Another shot in his leg made him emit a low groan, half a growl and half a plea. His body was trembling wildly. It was burning, fire filling his veins and moving through from his limbs to his tentacles as they came alive, connecting into him and squeezing his chest, squeezing him until he felt crushed and broken, a beetle beneath the foot of a dragon.

The last injection bit into him, and his vision blurred. The dark was shifting, the blue changing to red. All around him was screaming, all throughout him was burning. He was dying, a charred corpse lying in the dirt. And approaching him...pale humanoids, all of them armed with knives, one carrying a bucket. They were smiling at how pathetic he was, at how he couldn’t move or fight as they slit his throat and held the bucket up to collect his blood--

The sound of wheels brought him back to reality. Kronya was happily pushing him along, the half-alien accompanying her. They were heading back to the elevator, back to his cell. The half-alien was looking down at him, her eyes full of sorrow as she spread her hands over his body and whispered a spell, white magic beginning to glow around them--

Before Kronya slammed an elbow into her ribs. “None of that, vermin. I want to see him suffer.”

The half-alien flinched away, tears in the corners of her eyes as she clenched her hands together, the magic that had once spread around them dusting away.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it Mikky?” Kronya hummed, looking back down at him and raising a hand to her cheek. It was covered in his blood. “But try to be more entertaining next time, will you? I love it when you struggle during surgery.”

If he could have found his voice, Miklan would have told her to go fuck herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im guessing no one thought mr rude older brother would make it into this fic, and yet here i am, because im trash and actually like miklan as a character and kinda wish he couldve been recruitable. anyways, the idea actually came from my dear friend knight, who is as wonderfully cruel to these characters as me. and dont worry! the angst will even out i promise (before i put some more in)


	7. The Lies of Garreg Mach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude awakens in Garreg Mach, ready for another boring political meeting. Instead, he finds things aren't quite what they seem in the old monastery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! im so sorry this took so long to update! life has just been happening and for a bit i lost my spark. i intend to continue it, dont worry! i hope you all like this chapter.

“Claude, wake up. The sun has risen.”

The first thing he heard was that familiar deep voice, echoing through his head. Claude blinked awake, his gaze immediately drawn to the sunlight streaming in through the mandatory window on every Garreg Mach room. From the looks of it, it had been day for a while now; he must’ve slept in from arriving so late last night. Shit, did he miss his meeting with Edelgard? He quickly checked his phone--10am. Nope, their meeting was for 4, he was fine. 

“Welcome back,” Dimitri said, giving him the mental equivalent of a smile. “I made preparations for moving last night. I’m afraid there are still a few nerves frayed here or there, but I’ve left enough solution for them to heal. When you’re ready, I will be happy to move hosts.”

There was something in Dimitri’s tone which felt a bit off. He sounded tired despite his peppy, eager to please attitude. Preparing all night, he likely hadn’t slept. But then again, who was Claude to complain? He had been the one who asked for it, after all. 

“Really? Damn, you’re fast,” he responded, slipping out of bed. “But by frayed nerves, I’m hoping you don’t mean anything too serious.” Crossing to his luggage, he pulled out his toothbrush and razor and headed for the bathroom.

“No, nothing that would cause you irreparable damage. Perhaps a slight loss of motor skills, but nothing fatal, and it should heal. I--what are you doing?” 

‘Brushing my teeth,’ he answered in his head, since his mouth was currently full of mint. 

“I...it...what is this disgusting flavor?! And this scent...foul beyond measure! You humans willingly put this stuff in your mouth?!”

‘It’s mint.’ He spat in the sink and rinsed. ‘Most people enjoy the smell.’

“Well, it’s absolutely horrible! And--what are you rubbing on your--are you bringing a blade near your face?! You’ll hurt yourself!” Even as he said it he jerked Claude’s hand away. 

‘Woah, calm down, if I don’t shave I’ll have a full beard in a week.’ He forcefully pulled his hand back, after which Dimitri released it. 

“Shave?! What kind of acceptable activity consists of bringing a razor near your face! Surely the dangers of cutting your skin off outweigh the positives! Why does it matter if you have a...beard! Whatever that is!”

Claude snorted. ‘Would you believe me if I told you it’s entirely cosmetic? And relax, I’ve been shaving since I was fifteen, I’m far past ‘cutting my skin off’.” 

As he said it he nicked himself, and Dimitri shrieked about how crazy humans were while he rolled his eyes. But even though he had just cut himself, the wound didn’t bleed; the moment it opened, it closed. Huh, weird--it brought him back to the memory of his bandaged hand, which he knew Dimitri was responsible for. 

It seemed he could heal small wounds almost instantaneously. He wondered what else Dimitri was capable of, if perhaps he could extend life spans or heal broken bones or regrow limbs. Was it all intentional, or just part of living in a host? Well, not like he would be making use of it after today...

“If you must know, your skin abrasions and lacerations heal swiftly because we Vexins naturally produce a healing agent when we’re inside hosts--the primary goal is, of course, to prevent their nervous systems from shutting down after we embed ourselves in them, but once such damage has healed, it spreads to the rest of your body. Skin wounds heal the fastest, though I do not think I would be capable of regenerating an entire lost limb.”

‘Woah, neat,’ he thought as he dried his face off--his partial beard remained, but that annoying morning stubble was now gone. ‘How does it work?’

“It accelerates cell growth and improves performance. In fact, your cells should be quite...healthy, right now, perhaps more so than they’ve been in years.” 

Claude paused for a moment and stretched--nope, no noticeable difference. “Can’t say I feel it,” he said aloud. 

“Hm...you may not, but your physical abilities should be heightened, at least slightly.” He felt Dimitri’s mental frown. “I...cannot say what will happen to you when I leave. Likely, you will feel your performance decrease.”

Well...a slightly decreased performance could be made up for. An intruder in his brain...well, he should stop saying intruder. Deciding not to focus on the topic anymore, Claude returned to his luggage and pulled out a fresh set of clothes to change into. But first, of course, he’d have to remove what he was wearing. 

His eyes were once again glued to his bare chest for a moment before Dimitri looked away--was that a light blush he felt coming on? 

“I, uh, I suppose you would prefer it if I released my hold on your eyes.” 

It was posed as a question, yet Claude immediately felt his control removed. He smirked as he pulled on light brown slacks to match his white dress shirt. Then, despite the heat, he added a suit jacket and boots--Garreg Mach never got too hot, even in the summer. 

“Are...are you finished? I...um...didn’t want to disrupt you.” Oh yeah, that was definitely blush, which only made his smirk wider. 

“Yeah, I’m done, you can look.” He winked. “Do I look good?”

He felt Dimitri give him a once over. “I...cannot say that I am very experienced in dressing, but the colors go very well with you.”

“Thanks.” He crossed the room to pick up his phone and slip it into his pocket, glancing out the window as he did so. The area outside of the dining hall of Garreg Mach sprawled before him, and already students were lingering here and there. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at the sight; it reminded him of his student days. 

“Claude?” 

“Yeah?”

“May I ask what exactly this ‘Garreg Mach’ is…? I wanted to ask yesterday, but I...ah, I should apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was highly unbecoming of me to behave so childishly.”

“You’re forgiven; besides, after you take Edelgard, I’m sure we can make it up.” He gave Dimitri a smile. “Garreg Mach is the most prestigious academy in Fodlan. It’s run by the Church of Seiros, which is also the main religion of Fodlan. The majority of students here are nobles, or are due to go into politics and become leaders. Some people make it here by virtue of their smarts alone, though.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I can really say that’s why they accepted me.”

“Did they have something against you?”

“Well, they took one look at my skin and my mother and...well, that’s enough about that. Point is, this place was my high school and college. Coming back here for a meeting is a bit weird...I’m guessing Edelgard has something up her sleeve.” Perhaps she would pop the question of uniting the Alliance and Empire here, or reveal blackmail to force him to comply. He didn’t trust it.

“It is merely an academy? How...strange.” Dimitri had something on his mind, Claude could feel it, but he didn’t know how to probe back at Dimitri’s thoughts and look into his secrets like the Vexin could. It was frustrating. 

His stomach growled. It was late in the morning, and he’d likely missed breakfast. He’d probably have to settle for lunch, served at 11, but that meant waiting another hour. Claude frowned and turned, exiting his room and locking it behind him. First thing was first, he should find Edelgard, try and get a read on her intentions. 

Upon exiting his room, he found himself by the greenhouse and fishing pond. There were a few students wandering around on the Sunday morning, finding various activities to entertain themselves. Claude passed a girl watering the flowers as he looked around for Edelgard, entering the dining hall on course to the entrance hall. As he exited the dining hall, he spotted a familiar figure, dressed in red and black. Besides her was a tall and stocky man, whom he immediately recognized. 

Edelgard was conversing with Professor Jeralt as if not a day had passed since graduation. He had been the professor of the Golden Deer house, while Manuela had led Edelgard’s black Eagles, but Jeralt was known amongst all the students as a helpful combat instructor, so almost everyone knew him. Whatever they were discussing halted as Claude approached. 

“Am I butting in?” He asked teasingly. “Please, continue to converse as if I’m not here. I’ll just take some notes, if her Imperial Majesty doesn’t mind.”

Edelgard gave him a look. “Already up to your scheming, Claude? I expected you would have realized yourself outdone and given up, considering your strange absence this past week.”

“Don’t count me out yet. I was just plotting my next move and handling some Alliance affairs. Quite boring stuff, but important nonetheless. I won’t bore you with the details.” He gave her a wink at which she rolled her eyes. 

“Well, you have my assurance that you will not be bored during our meeting. But, enough of that. How long has it been since we stood together and conversed with our favorite professor?”

Jeralt raised a hand to wave her off. “Don’t let Manuela hear that, or she’ll bend my ear all night about how I’ve stolen her best student from her.” He grinned at Claude. “How’re you doing, Riegan? You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Not at all? Appears my disguise is working, then.” He smiled back. “It’s nice to see you again, professor.” 

Though, despite his teasing, he had to say that Jeralt did actually look exactly the same. He had no more wrinkles than he’d had the day Claude had graduated, and though his braid had gotten longer, there wasn’t a single streak of gray in it. Jeralt looked as young now as he had when Claude had first arrived six years prior. 

He felt familiar. The feeling came from Dimitri, this strange familiarity with Jeralt, a human he had never met. Yet something about him reminded him of...Rhea. 

Rhea? Who was Rhea?

“How’s life been as the famed leader of the Alliance?” Jeralt’s question snapped him back to attention. “I’ve seen you plenty of times in the news, always dressed up for the reporters and standing at a podium for speech delivery. I know that’s never been your thing; did you finally grow into it?”

“Never been my thing? Please, I was always the one motivating my class for our biggest battles.” Claude shrugged his comment off. “If anything, it’s second nature now. How have you been, professor? Is the academy treating you well?”

“About as well as their limited budget will allow, though they’ve had to lay a few people off. The guards are understaffed, and they had to call in students to help in the kitchen...but I suppose it just means more job security for me. No one wants to get rid of the combat teacher when the very safety of the students is being compromised.” He shrugged. 

“Have you heard?” Edelgard said to Claude. “Ashe and Dedue work for the monastery now. Their restaurant business is being headed by their siblings while they focus their attention here.” She let out a small chuckle. “It seems the budget cuts certainly didn’t touch the culinary department here.”

Claude nearly drooled at the sound of that. Ashe Ubert and Dedue Molinaro were famously known as the best cooks at Garreg Mach, so much so that after graduation they’d launched a restaurant chain that found immediate success, and not just from the constant visits from their former classmates. Many were the days that Claude had arrived early at the dining hall upon hearing that they were cooking on that day. And now they were here at Garreg Mach? He could already picture a feast laid out before him, pheasant and quail and chicken with vegetables piled high and breads of five different varieties laid out, accompanied by thick dips and four different soups…

“Yeah…” he moaned, quickly snapping out of his daze. “I mean, of course!” He placed a hand on his hip and tried to play it cool. “You’ve got to keep the students placated in some way.”

“And I would say it certainly worked on you, Claude. Does your stomach truly hold so much control over you?” Edelgard crossed her arms and frowned. “If just the prospect of food is already distracting you…”

“Well, that’s Claude for you,” Jeralt broke in. “The boy can’t resist a good feast. Recall the Battle of the Eagle and Lion? He ate so much at his victory feast he passed out.”

“Our victory feast? Has your age caught up with you old man?” Claude teased. “If I recall correctly, it was the Black Eagles who won the battle...though it was nice that they shared with the rest of us.” 

Yes, he remembered the battle easily: Lorenz rushing off on his own, Hilda sitting out, Leonie fighting wildly, and himself using wooden arrows with points kept dull to prevent any injuries. His class hadn’t fought as seriously as they should have, and Edelgard’s won. But the Blue Lions...he could hardly recall them, for some strange reason. 

“I was just testing your memory, kid,” Jeralt waved a hand. “Seeing how much you remember from your student days. Why don’t we try another round?” Even as he said it, though, Claude was aware of something strange: had Jeralt’s eyes always had a green flicker within them?

“Come now Jeralt, surely Claude doesn’t remember every intricate detail. Not even you do.” Edelgard came to his rescue. “And we’ve got better things to discuss than old memories.” Her gaze moved back to Claude. “Apologies, Claude, but our discussion is private. Come, Jeralt.”

They both waved at him before walking away together. Claude waited for them to turn a corner before he let a frown cross his face. Private? What did Edelgard want with Jeralt?

And why did Jeralt feel so much like this weird...Rhea person? 

‘Dimitri, who is “Rhea”?’ He asked mentally, moving to lean against a pillar and focusing upon a spot on the floor. Hopefully it would lower any suspicion against him. 

“Rhea? She is the archbishop, and leader of Planet Zanado. She sent me on this mission in the first place.” He could feel Dimitri moving, trying to turn his head back in the direction Jeralt had gone. “I swear I felt her presence within that man…”

‘Rhea is a Nabatean, right? Can she control people like you?’

“No, I...I must admit I know little of her true abilities, but such abilities should not include mind control. And to the extent of my knowledge, Nabateans have never been present upon this planet, so I cannot fathom how her power would be--”

The sound of approaching footsteps caused them both to raise Claude’s head. Before them, standing with his broom in both hands, was a familiar youthful face: Cyril, the Almyran orphan who worked as the monastery’s groundskeeper. Claude had always kept an eye on him for multiple reasons: for one, he had always felt slightly responsible for Cyril’s predicament; it was war between Almyra and Fodlan which had caused him to lose his parents, after all. But for another, he didn’t know if Cyril would recognize him and out him to the entire monastery. Thankfully, Cyril didn’t know his true identity, but even so, he’d found himself trying to get a little closer to the kid when he was in school. 

But now, looking at Cyril, something struck him hard: Cyril was still a kid. It had been years, but Cyril, like Jeralt, hadn’t seemed to age. The back of his neck suddenly ached, and he felt something shifting within him, as if it was trying to back away. 

“Hey Cyril,” he said, pretending the feeling in his neck wasn’t bothering him. “Nice to see you again, little buddy!”

Dimitri’s shifting ceased. A loud buzz started in his head, then quickly fell. 

‘What’s wrong?’ He asked mentally, but was immediately brought back to reality as Cyril spoke.

“Hey, Claude, nice to see you again. Could ya come with me? I’ve got something to say to ya.”

“Blunt as ever, aren’t you Cyril? You haven’t changed at all.” He stood and uncrossed his arms. “It’s been six years! Don’t you want to catch up?”

“Why do you think I’m asking ya to follow me?” Cyril responded, looking to the ground where he stood. “Aw, you got dirt on the pillar…”

“My bad,” he said, trying and failing to meeting Cyril’s gaze. “Alright, no harm in it, I’ll follow you. Where are we going?”

“Star terrace,” Cyril said nonchalantly, practically leaving Claude behind as he passed him on his way to the second floor staircase. 

“Is that allowed? I thought the terrace was only for the headmaster?” 

“I’m allowed up there. So is anyone I say.” Otherwise, Cyril said nothing as they walked together. 

“This Cyril…” he heard Dimitri mutter in his mind, “something is horribly wrong about him…”

‘Really? He’s a bit blunt, but he’s pretty harmless.’

“No, he’s...I feel something within him, far better contained than in Jeralt. Be careful.”

‘Is it like Jeralt’s?’

“I…” They were climbing the second set of stairs now, and Dimitri’s voice faded as Claude made his way onto the third floor of the monastery. 

The third floor of the monastery was off-limits to students, and housed the living quarters of the elusive headmaster of Garreg Mach, who apparently doubled as the leader of the Church of Seiros. Claude had never seen them; in fact, he didn’t know of anyone who had. In all his time at Garreg Mach, he had never so much as heard their voice, and the library had no books which gave detailed accounts of their face or life. All he knew was that the third floor was always guarded by someone, but today, it strangely wasn’t. 

In fact, as he had climbed, he had noticed how few people there seemed to be around. Something felt off, a sense of apprehension growing within him. And looking around at the third floor, he saw now how empty it was. The double doors on his right which lead into a bedroom held a bed that looked untouched, as if it hadn’t been slept on in years, and there wasn’t a single trinket to indicate human life had touched upon it. All that existed within what should have been living quarters was a bed, a window, a bedside table and drawer, and a thin coating of dust. 

On his left, another set of double doors opened up to a walkway. It was made of bright stone which almost seemed to reflect light, and connected to a large platform made of the same stuff. The platform itself was circular and decorated with a strange pattern: a circle painted in deep blue, with various symbols drawn atop them and what seemed to be a compass-like depiction in the middle. Around the drawings were small beds of well maintained gladiolus, as well as small pools of water beside them. A stone fence kept all of the Star Terrace within it, and at the end of it all rose an obelisk-like object with a strange symbol carved into it.

Cyril stood before the obelisk, head turned towards the sky. His jaw was moving, though Claude did not hear any sounds from him as he stepped onto the Star Terrace. He glanced down, took in all the strange symbols depicted below--they reminded him of the Crests. No, several of them were Crests, but more than a few he did not recognize. And the compass in the middle...there were patterns of stars behind it, creating a map of sort. 

He looked back up at Cyril, still standing before the obelisk, and his eyes widened. The strange symbol was glowing with a green light, an aura beginning to gather around it which rose into the sky. Before he could ask what the hell was going on, the aura suddenly solidified into a beam of light and shot diagonally into the sky, creating what could only be described as a green thread extending to the stars beyond. 

Cyril flinched as the thread wove through the symbol and straight into his head. Claude shouted as he crumpled to the ground, running towards him despite his better judgement. In his head, Dimitri was quiet, but his own astonishment was flooding through Claude’s senses. 

This power, this feeling...it is all too familiar.

It was that same astonishment which suddenly gave way to fearful knowledge as his eyes rose to the sky above. In a single moment he forced Claude to a stop, right in the middle of the Star Terrace. 

‘Dimitri? What are you doing?!’ He demanded in his head, but before Dimitri could answer, they both observed Cyril begin to float, his limp body suspended by some kind of unknown force. The obelisk glowed brighter, the symbol upon it turning to a bright yellow. 

Cyril turned, the green thread connecting to the back of his head, and stared at them with glowing eyes that were completely green. Claude felt both a stab of fear and confusion within his chest. Cyril floated closer, and he instinctively backed away, Dimitri giving him no resistance. 

“Is it? But I...that’s impossible, she’s--” Dimitri’s voice was ringing through his head, his own confusion mixing with Claude’s. 

‘She? What do you know about this? What the hell just happened to Cyril?!”

A smile spread across Cyril’s face when he reached the center of the Star Terrace, the green thread looking like a hand puppeting him about. 

“King Dimitri,” He spoke, and it was the voice of an unknown woman that sounded instead of his own. “I am glad we have found each other once more.”

Claude gaped right as control was seized from him. His body dropped to its knees, his head bowing. 

“Lady Rhea!” Dimitri said with his voice. “Forgive me, I was not aware it was you who guided me here.”

“Rise, Dimitri. You have nothing to apologize for.” Cyril gestured with one hand, and Dimitri reluctantly raised Claude’s head. 

A thousand questions were buzzing within him. This was Lady Rhea? Was she possessing Cyril? Dimitri had said that she didn’t have the ability for such, had he been lying the whole time? What was the Star Terrace truly for? What was that obelisk and how did it work? Where was the headmaster? And...King Dimitri!?

“It is wonderful to see you again,” Rhea continued. “After Seteth lost touch with your ship, I feared for your life...truly, for us to reunite so, the Goddess is generous in her blessings.”

Dimitri’s puzzled emotions reflected onto Claude’s face. “You lost communications with my ship?”

“A distress signal was the last output we received, as well as some...troubling noises. Seteth presumed you dead, but I prayed his fears would be untrue.” Cyril smiled. “And here you are, as healthy as the day you left, flourishing within a host. Lambert would be proud.”

Dimitri internally cringed. “Lady Rhea, may I ask why you are here? And how?”

Cyril’s smile faded, though it was not with any sort of malevolence. “Physically, I am still absent from this place. Through this human’s body, I have been able to communicate with my followers upon the Earth...and now, I use it to communicate with you. As for why I am here, I simply could not ignore it when I sensed you nearby. I thought we may meet, and discuss how your mission is progressing.”

“I see. Lady Rhea, I had thought you had no ability to control others. Please, tell me how you are doing this!”

“This boy is named Cyril.” Rhea moved his hands to indicate to himself. “When I walked this planet once, long ago, I came across him, starving and on the brink of death. I shared my blood with him in an attempt to save his life, and ever since, he has pledged himself to me in body and mind. It is by his will that I use his body now.” 

“I...see. My deepest apologies for doubting you, Lady Rhea.”

But he still did doubt Lady Rhea. For when had she walked the planet that she claimed to have never touched upon? And when had she shared her blood with beings she had always thought lesser of? 

“You are forgiven. Now...I have much to ask of you, Dimitri. How goes your search for my spawn?”

“Poorly, in all truths. I was asleep until just a few days ago and have lost my guards, body, and ship. And...I must admit, my royal blood cannot overcome my inexperience in controlling my host.”

“Hey, can I interrupt you real fast?” Claude said, still disturbingly trapped in his own head. The grip holding him in place was strong, too strong for him to properly resist. It was as if he was a mere spectator, sitting at the back of his head and watching his body act. “What is going on, Dimitri? Did she just call you a King?”

His body flinched, a wave of guilt not belonging to himself washing over him. 

“I...I’m sorry,” he began, practically tripping over his words. “I didn’t want to tell you. I...suppose I should introduce you to Lady Rhea.”

“Yeah, about her. I thought you said she couldn’t control people.”

“Thought, Claude. This is as new to me as you. I also thought she...”

She wouldn’t lie to me.

Claude felt control returning to him, enough that he could move his limbs, blink his eyes, turn his head--but he knew, right behind him, Dimitri had the same power as he did, and he didn’t like it. 

Before them, Cyril cocked his head. “Did you not kill your host? Rodrigue has informed me that it is far easier to control a host when their mind is dead.”

“Actually, about him…” Dimitri began, before Claude interrupted him. 

“Hey there. Lady Rhea, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you from Dimitri. Ruler of the Nabateans, right? Ah, where are my manners.” He made a sweeping bow and held out a hand. “Claude von Riegan of the Leicester Alliance. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Cyril’s brows rose, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown. “Dimitri, you have left your host intact?”

His voice spoke, with only Dimitri’s intent behind it. “Yes, Lady Rhea. Please, do not think ill of me for such...I could not bring myself to kill such a capable being.”

The many words which Claude heard, all in the span of less than a second, were far from just “capable”: beautiful, charming, curious, intriguing, attractive, innocent, undeserving.

“Hm...you have a kind heart, Dimitri,” Rhea remarked. “How much has he heard?”

“All, but I promise he is of no threat. I’ll take his memory before I leave.”

‘Woah, what? You can do that?’

No. But don’t tell Rhea that. If she suspects you a threat, I hesitate to think of what she’ll do to you.

Claude quieted down, and chose to play along. Before them, Cyril shrugged. 

“I will trust in your decision, then. Seeing how poorly this is all going, though...perhaps it would be better to abort the mission. I do not want the last child of Blaidydd vanishing into the same planet his father did.”

His eyes widened. “No! I mean, no, that won’t be necessary. Claude has claimed he knows the location of my body, and once I regain that, I’ll have my ship. From there, I can proceed with my mission, regardless of where my guards are.”

Cyril raised a brow. “Are you sure? There would be no shame in retreating, given your current position.”

“I am sure. Returning now would forsake your trust in me. Besides, I am a child of Blaidydd. It would take more than just a broken ship to stop me.”

“Very well. But before you become too confident...I must warn you, Dimitri. Those who stole my child...I believe they are responsible for your current predicament.”

Ah, those responsible for his mission. Rhea had never given him a proper description on his potential opponents. “Who are they?” He asked.

Cyril’s expression fell. “I...do not know. We know very little of their actual identity and motives, but what we do know is that they have been hiding within Fodlan for a very long time. In fact, they may have been responsible for the...incident, ten years ago. Whatever the case, I believe they are aware of your presence, Dimitri. Be very cautious.”

“Of course. I will not fail.”

“Then go, child of Blaidydd. The Goddess is watching over you. With her divine protection, you cannot fail.”

The obelisk had stopped glowing, the gold which illuminated the symbol ebbing away. In tandem the thread connecting to Cyril began to thin and fray, his body crumpling back to the ground as it snapped. Normally, Claude would have moved to assist him, but this time, he stood still, almost dazed at all the new information thrown at him. 

“My apologies over seizing your control. I had no idea Lady Rhea would do...that.”

‘It’s fine,’ Claude said with a wink in his voice. ‘You can make it up to me by explaining some of it. Like...what’s ‘the incident’, are you a king, what does Blaidydd mean, aaaaaand tell me about your guards?’

Dimitri groaned. “Of course...where would you like me to start?”

\------------

Following their conversation at the Star Terrace, Claude helped Cyril to the infirmary, who despite his apparent possession was completely unharmed. Perhaps for the better, he didn’t recall anything of his experience, only that he needed to return to clean the Star Terrace as soon as possible. Rather convenient, Claude couldn’t help thinking, that Cyril, the only one capable of bringing Rhea to Earth, was incapable of knowing her true intentions. Like a mule made to transport cargo, his only knowledge was the weight of the burden placed upon his back. Otherwise, he was complacent to remain in his place. 

It left a bad taste in the back of his mouth, more so when he remembered that Dimitri was likely capable of doing the same to him. Rhea had shown almost what seemed to be irritation at the fact that he was alive, as well as Dimitri’s intentions of keeping him sentient. If she ordered it, would Dimitri turn on him? More so, was her view of humans shared by most of alienkind? 

If so, he’d have a lot more to work on after converting just Fodlan. 

As a small thank you to Dimitri for sticking up for him, he let him indulge in some cheese at lunch--after all, who doesn’t like a feast after encountering a terrifying alien queen? And the snack worked wonders for loosening Dimitri up, the somewhat scared feeling he had manifested before vanishing as he once again grew comfortable within his host. 

Even if Claude himself didn’t exactly feel any better about the situation, what was made clear now was that Dimitri had lied to him--and been lied to as well. For one, Dimitri’s true identity was revealed--he wasn’t just an alien, but an alien king. And in his kind, royalty was not just crowned from bloodline alone--each royal would have to prove their ownership of the power of Blaidydd, a rare mutation gifted by the Nabateans. The true extent of its power was unknown, but it resulted in a larger and stronger body, as well as the apparent ability to shut down and control any host they desired. 

Such power Dimitri thankfully did not intend to use. He was here to find the kidnapped spawn of an alien queen, as well as discover the mystery of what had happened to his father. But he was not alone, which was the scary part. Whether or not his guards had survived, something had messed with his mission, something that was hiding in Fodlan. That very same something knew about the Nabateans and Vexins, their mission, and might be searching for both of them. 

Wonderful. For a few pieces of the puzzle that Claude had filled in, more gaps manifested. The fact that there were potential beings in the Earth who knew of aliens was both promising and terrifying, since Dimitri couldn’t guarantee if they were human or not. All he really could say was that he needed his actual body back. Once he was in Edelgard, Claude could help him find it, and after that he would vanish to complete his mission. Easy and clear. 

All Claude had to do was somehow make skin to skin contact with Edelgard at some point during their meeting, which he was, as usual, right on time for. Having spent his day conversing with Dimitri, reminiscing around Garreg Mach, processing information, and reading a few dozen poetry books in the library, he joined Edelgard behind the greenhouse, by the edge of the fish pond and away from prying eyes. 

The two of them stood beneath the large wooden structure which pumped water into the greenhouse’s sprinkler systems. It was old and creaky, and though it had been fortified many times over, no one had ever bothered to replace it. The noise it made often drowned out any conversations going on beneath, and it had a lovely view of the fish pond to boot. 

Why Edelgard had chosen the pond, and not an actual meeting room, was beyond him. Whatever her reasons, she was waiting for him, in her black dress pants and button down collared red shirt, the first two undone in the heat and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her golden necklace, thick on the back and thin on the front, glistened even in the shadows, and her purple eyes betrayed nothing as she turned to give him a smile. In one hand, she held an unopened can of sparkling water. 

“Claude,” she nodded as he approached, her gaze floating back over the pond. “Apologies for our earlier encounter.”

“Think nothing of it. Now, what were you discussing with Jeralt?” He teased, at which she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s none of your business. Besides, it has nothing to do with what I would like to discuss.” She slid a thumb under the tab on her can, a hiss escaping as it was opened. “Care for a drink?”

Usually, he would have declined, knowing damn well not to accept food or drink from potential political rivals, especially when they were alone like this. But a place like this was absolutely terrible for covert poisoning. They were visible to anyone across the pond, and if he were to yell loud enough, they would hear his screams of accusation. The infirmary was less than five minutes if he ran. And the drink had been unopened--he had watched her fingers closely and hadn’t seen any sleight of hand. No movement whatsoever to indicate it was poisoned. 

Plus it was hot out, it was an offer of technical “friendliness”, and staying hydrated was important. So he accepted, taking a short sip of the bitter, fizzing water before handing it back. It didn’t taste or smell any different than normal sparkling water, though he doubted she didn’t have higher poisons at her disposal. Edelgard, as if trying to soothe his potential concerns, took a longer swig than he did, keeping it in her non-dominant hand.

“So then, what do you want to discuss?” Dimitri almost seemed to be leaning forward inside of him, eager to hear whatever Edelgard had to say. Or...maybe he was just eager to swap hosts. Whatever the case, Claude could feel his anticipation crawling under his skin, making him antsy. 

“The future of Fodlan, of course.”

“Ah, right. One you believe the Empire should control.”

She quirked a smile. “You catch on fast. But I promise this time around, I don’t intend to ‘regale’ you with a potential future you have no interest in. I intend to sway you.”

“Oh? Are you going to offer me the royal coffers as a bribe?”

“No, Claude.” She frowned. “I want you to know why the future must be led by the Empire.”

“Alright. Is your first argument ‘more resources’?” 

“Not at all. Adrestia may be to the south, but we both know Deirdru sees a far greater bounty in fish than any of its port cities. In addition, you of the Alliance do not have to rely upon donations from nearby island nations constantly fighting to gain their freedom. And surely you know that there is little to gain by seeking out and conquering Faerghus.”

“If I do recall, more than few emperors attempted it in the past, only to return home with half the soldiers they had, most of them chilled to the bone.” 

“Precisely. I don't want my unification to cause any sort of fighting between us which will just result in more casualties. But to do so...I need to make Fodlan realize that our enemy is not each other.”

“What do you mean by that?” Claude raised a brow. Internally he was bracing. Was Edelgard going to tell him the enemy was Almyra, or Dagda, or Brigid? Religion or the caste system? Perhaps even an outside country?

“Our enemy is...well, first, let me ask you something Claude.” Edelgard took her eyes off of him and looked to the sky. “Do you believe that life exists beyond this planet?”

He didn’t like where this was going. Best to play along. “Beyond our planet? Well surely in the vast expanse of the universe, something else has to be alive somewhere, right? Probably just old space bacteria, but that still counts as something, doesn’t it?”

Edelgard paused. “Yes, it does. But what if there was something greater than just bacteria?”

“Please tell me you haven’t gone looney.”

She glared at him. “I guarantee you I’m in my right mind, Claude. I’m just asking a simple question: do you believe there is life beyond just Earth?”

“Sure.” He had to act like he didn’t know of Dimitri, or anything that he had just learned. Play it as stupid and as shocked as he could. Her arms would be best for skin-to-skin contact, but he couldn’t just reach out and grab one. Perhaps he could feign friendliness and loop his arm around hers?

Edelgard raised her eyes to the sky once more. “Then tell me, do you think it would ever be possible that a threat could come to us from such life?”

The way she kept staring up at the sky made him almost itchy. She kept taking her eyes off of him, as if waiting for him to make a move. Grab her by the necklace and press his arm against her, make that vital skin-to-skin contact. Almost as if she was inviting him. 

Inside of him, Dimitri shivered, the feeling manifesting as goosebumps on his skin. Claude ignored it. 

“I suppose if it was intelligent enough, maybe. But why waste your time attacking other planets? If life was able to come to us from beyond the stars, then wouldn’t it have technology far greater than ours? Why wouldn’t it just stay on its own planet, and work to improve itself?”

“Perhaps such beings would be hellbent on conquering others and spreading themselves. Think of just ourselves, Claude: we fight each other for resources, for land, for money, and for power. If you gained the ability to enforce your ideals upon another planet full of resources and beings you could easily control, how many would jump at the opportunity?”

“I think you’ve seen too many alien movies, Edelgard. Did you just want to come here to confuse me?” 

Edelgard sighed and took a sip of her soda water. “There are many secrets in the world, Claude. As emperor, I want to unveil them. But I can’t with what I have now. And that’s why I’m turning to you.” She faced him fully, her brows lowered. “There’s something else threatening us as humankind. Something we never thought we would see before. It’s been pulling the strings of our governments for the longest time. You and I are perhaps the only ones who are not under their power in some way.”

“Who is this ‘they’, if ‘they’ even do exist? Or are you talking about money?” 

Dimitri shivered again.

“Claude...I need you as my complete ally before I can divulge into the full specifics. And for that...well. The easiest way for us to achieve this would be through unification.”

“Which I assume means that you want me to hand over the Alliance.” Another ripple of goosebumps. His muscles felt weaker. 

“If the Alliance and the Empire unite, we can break open the truth of what is hiding within Fodlan. If you believe me, and will stand with me, then I will tell you the full truth; but know if I do, there is no going back, Claude. Nothing will be as it was before. For that very reason, I can’t tell you it now. It’s all or nothing, Claude.”

A force hiding in Fodlan, pulling the strings. His shivers weren’t just from Dimitri now. Rhea had described something similar. 

It was Claude’s turn to sigh. “Edelgard...I want to believe you, but I don’t feel like you’re speaking the complete truth. Not with just the little you’ve told me. All of this just sounds like a conspiracy.”

Dimitri said something to him, but it was too soft for him to make out. 

“I see. How unfortunate.” Her expression became surprisingly calm. “If you don’t believe me, then there is nothing to be done.”

“Not that I think everything you’re saying is a lie,” Claude quickly cut in. “I just don’t believe every bit of it, especially since you claim that you’re not giving me the whole truth.” He tried to raise his hand forth in a gesture--and found that it didn’t react. 

Wait. What? He glanced down at his arm and tried to move it, the limb flopping uselessly.

Can’t…

He heard Dimitri’s voice echoing in his head, sounding weak. A flare of panic shot through him. 

‘Dimitri? Dimitri, what’s wrong?”

Can’t...breathe… 

A jerk within his neck crumpled his legs beneath him. He yelped as he fell onto his side, head colliding painfully with the pavement. Before him, Edelgard’s eyes were wide…

Yet she made no movement to help him. 

“Edelgard? What is this?!” He demanded, quickly cut off with a cry of pain. Something was moving, jerking about in his neck, trying to tear through the flesh and muscle as it crawled for the surface. 

Need...air...need...out…!

‘DIMITRI! Stop! What are you doing!?” But he knew what he was doing. Dimitri was trying to leave him, trying to do what he’d requested just a day ago. If he left too early, it would destroy Claude’s nerves. 

And here he was in a botched escape, doing just that. 

On the ground his body convulsed, his heart rate shooting up. Edelgard stood over him, watching with fascination. 

“So you are a host,” she whispered, and stepped around him. His legs had gone numb, and the same numbness was spreading up to his waist. All Claude could do was try to scooch away from her, something he was far too slow to do. 

“The hell are you talking about? What did you do to me?!”

She moved behind him, pushing him onto his stomach with a powerful shove, and observed the back of his neck. The flesh there was almost pulsing, and as she watched it moved. The Vexin within him was being choked out by the poison she’d put in her drink, one specialized for the parasitic race. It would have to break out of its host, granting Claude the freedom he’d doubtless been denied...or it would suffocate inside of a body its connection had been blocked to. 

“You know what I’m talking about, Vexin. You’ve imprisoned Claude, and now your grip is slipping. Stop playing dumb and leave.”

A dozen tiny pinpricks poked out from beneath the flesh, red swelling around them as they did so. They were black in color, but as she watched, swirled lightly with blue. Edelgard almost smirked. 

“There you are. Apologies, Claude. I know this hurts, but you’ll be free soon enough.”

Beneath her, Claude let out a choked noise, trying and failing to form words with the paralysis spread to his upper body. He was useless beneath her. They had no cure for the paralysis induced...but now he would be off the chess board. What country wanted a paralyzed leader who could hardly speak?

The pinpricks of tentacles came together and dug into the flesh, forcing it open. Blood welled up from the fresh wound and dripped down Claude’s neck as a tiny head burst forth, curved like a shell. Edelgard reached forth, intending to pluck it. 

It jerked it her direction, a symbol on it lighting up in a brilliant blue. The flash startled her so much that she hesitated, and the Vexin retreated back into its host, the tentacles aiding its previous escape quickly weaving between the flesh, forming a coating to keep it protected and sealed. 

She growled in frustration. “Leave now and I will capture you peacefully! If you continue to hide in there, you’ll suffocate!”

To her surprise, Claude suddenly moved, propping himself up on his arms and casting her a glare the likes of which she’d never seen on his face before. No, it simply didn’t belong to him. An expression of pure hatred glared forth at her, and in that moment, she saw a flicker of blue dancing in Claude’s eyes. 

He lunged. She dodged and drove an elbow into his side, immediately knocking him off balance and towards the water. Blood dripping down his neck, he attempted to recover--only for his foot to slip, his body falling back into the water of the fishpond. 

The paralysis was back. In his mind, he heard Dimitri gasping, grasping at every semblance of consciousness, trying to hold on for a moment longer. It had been him controlling Claude, but he could do it no longer, the lack of oxygen catching up with his brain. Dizzy and confused, he loosened his grip, and Claude fell limply through the pond, quickly sinking towards the water, 

His body was numb. The wetness of the water swallowing it he felt only on his face, only in his eyes as his gaze focused on the sun above. He could see Edelgard’s blurry face looking down at him, watching his useless body sink. To think this was how it ended, with betrayal, poison, and a drowning. Not in Almyra, but in Fodlan. 

And it all started with a parasite from the stars beyond. 

A thin trickle of bubbles escaped from his lips as water began to fill his lungs, his consciousness slowly slipping away. 

But he wouldn’t die here.

A blue glow began to spread from his wound, vanishing with his body into the pond as it sank out of view. And somewhere far, far away, the glow of what had been thought as nothing but a stone caused a creature thought dormant to finally twitch.

**Author's Note:**

> im still working on this and do plan to continue it, but i thought i'd post what ive done thus far. cant hurt, right?


End file.
